Taxi Driver
by flipstahhz
Summary: [COMPLETE] A doctor with a germ phobia, intoxicated businessmen, a lady who never keeps quiet, and a runaway musician. Those were just to name the few customers he has chauffeured around Tokyo. Now, thanks to them, all the driver wants to do is hand in his resignation. [digidestined 01/02] A series of one-shots.
1. Miyako: Purple Haired Feminist

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

miyako

 **p** urple **h** aired **f** eminist

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His back ached.

Parking the taxi on the side of the street, the driver stopped the engine.

He raised his arms over his head. After touching the ceiling, he dropped them down and proceeded on to wriggle on his seat. It was a lousy attempt to alleviate the tenseness from his stiff back. Chronic back pain was guaranteed with his occupation; especially when he had been driving through the Tokyo streets for decades.

Alighting from the vehicle, he ducked into the closest convenient store. Once spotting the hot beverages section, he did a quick scan over the drinks before finding his preferred coffee.

"Two hundred yen please," a polite, feminine voice told him.

Hand digging into his back pocket, he took out a bunch of loose coins and placed the precise amount onto the counter. The driver lifted his head and found himself staring longer than he should have.

How could he not when the cashier before him had, well... _purple_ hair?

Her dyed purple hair made her look like a foreigner from a different country. It wasn't the large circular glasses that framed half of her face, the wide toothy grin, nor the neon orange nail polish that had caught his attention - it was her hair.

What was wrong with society these days? Out of all colours the young woman had chosen, why had she picked an unnatural purple? What would her parents think? Was she on drugs? Maybe she had tattoos too? Why had the convenient store hired her when she looked like a yankee who might be affiliated with the mafia?

Questions swirled in his mind as he took his coffee from the counter with a slight bow.

When he returned to the car, the taxi driver unscrewed the cap and took a sip of the coffee. He closed his eyes, savouring the warm liquid that touched his tongue. He had needed the caffeine hit. Because it was a Saturday night, it was more likely that his customers' state of minds would be of the intoxicated manner. The survival drink would help him cope with the upcoming absurdness that laid on ahead.

Knowing that his break was well over, the taxi driver proceeded to start the car.

In the process, he paused when shrill screaming sliced into the silent air.

"You let go of her _now_ , you piece of trash!"

The taxi driver winced at the vulgar choice of words, but did not dare to turn his head around. He recognised it to the sound of the cashier's voice who had served him earlier. He opted to glance at the rearview mirror, invasively witnessing the scene unfolding before him.

The cashier was there, all right.

From the looks of things, she must have finished her shift. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder and wore a jacket that covered her _Family Mart_ uniform. Her hands were on her waist as she faced the couple who gazed at her back, alarmed expressions present on their faces.

"What's your problem, _lady?_ " A man, that appeared in his mid-thirties, retorted.

The man was a head taller than the purple-headed woman. He was using his height to his leverage to admonish the cashier. His arm rested possessively around his girlfriend's lower back, leering down at the cashier who stood before him.

However, the man's intimidation tactic failed to work on the cashier. She had resorted to tilting her chin upwards, openly glaring at the man with fire in her eyes. She was going to have nothing of his nonsense.

She snarled at him, "You heard me right. Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Was she _looking_ for trouble?

"Mind your own business." The man scoffed. "You have no right to meddle with something that doesn't concern you."

As the driver watched, he wished the cashier would turn away from the escalating fight. Why was the cashier being so silly to involve herself in matters that was none of her business?

To the driver's dismay, the man's comment had made her even more enraged. The cashier let out a dry, yet lethal, laugh. She then glanced over at the man's partner who was shooting a pleading look at the purple-haired woman. The man's partner didn't want the cashier to make a scene in public.

"Are you sure?" The cashier studied the other woman. "Your boyfriend is an asshole."

The man scowled lividly at her. "What did you say?"

"I'm just telling her the truth and advising that she's better off dumping filth like you."

The man flexed his biceps. "I don't want to fight you, but I _will_ if you won't leave us alone."

To the taxi driver's surprise, the cashier had pressed her palms onto the man's chest instead of replying. The cashier then took the girlfriend's wrist and wrenched her away from the man's grasp.

"What the _fu_ -"

He never managed to end his sentence because the cashier's fist smashed into his gut. The man was keeling over coughing, wide-eyed and staring at the cashier in a dazed-like state.

The man clutched onto his abdomen and wheezed, " _Bitch_."

"Why thank you." The cashier flipped her middle finger. "Now get out of my sight before I tell my manager to call the authorities."

"Women with big mouths are bound to land themselves in trouble. I'd be _careful_ if I were you," he warned her.

His words apparently didn't seem to effect the cashier, as she glared unblinkingly back at him. She didn't appear the least bit threatened by the man at all. And, because of her unwavering glaring, the man eventually did cower away.

"Let's go, Yuka."

The girlfriend seemed not too keen to leave with the man, refusing to move from the spot. Consequently, the man met Yuka's gaze and when she shook her head at him, he shrugged.

"Suit yourself," the man spat before turning on his heel and leaving the two women behind.

As he walked away, the girlfriend tried to shake the cashier's hold from her wrist in order to chase after him. The cashier did not let go.

"You shouldn't go after him. He's not worth it." The cashier furiously lectured, pointed a quivering finger at the other woman. "It's enough that he's hitting you in public, what more will he do to you if he isn't the least bit ashamed of it? And don't tell me those bruises on your arms are by accident too! Stop hiding and protecting somebody who doesn't treat you with respect. You should never tolerate somebody hurting you like that. _Never."_

"But-"

"Honey, you're worth more than that."

Yuka broke down in tears and the cashier gave her a reassuring hug.

The driver sheepishly looked away from the scene, letting out a deep sigh. He had been close to dialling the police in case the fighting had gotten out of control. How he was thankful that the arguing had been brought to an abrupt end.

As he started the engine and was about to slip back onto the road, he heard somebody tapping onto window.

The driver glimpsed purple in the rearview mirror and, instantly, he let out a groan.

 _Just his luck_. His first passenger of the night _had_ the rebellious cashier.

Out of the goodness of his heart, he rolled down the window. "Where to, miss?"

"Roppongi please."

Regretting that he had missed his chance to drive off, the driver sucked in a deep breath. He opened the back door, allowing the cashier to take a seat. Regardless of it all, it _was_ his job to cater to people who were in need of transportation. The taxi eased into the ongoing traffic. The sooner he got rid of her, the better.

She was a delinquent. She couldn't be trusted. If she was willing to challenge a man who was half her size to a brawl, it was possible that she could also do a runner.

The taxi driver hoped she'd pay him. Although she seemed like a yankee, there was still a possibility of her being a good person too. After all, the taxi driver _ha_ _d_ seen her save the woman from an abusive relationship back there.

Nearing ten minutes into their drive, the taxi driver snuck a peek at the cashier.

The cashier's arms were crossed with one leg folded over the other. Her bottom lip was jutting outwards, and there was an evident scowl on her face. Hips facing towards the window, her eyes blazed out the window as if she willed everything to melt under her gaze.

She may not have uttered a single word, but her body language spoke in volumes.

As the driver was about to look away, her eyes connected with his on the rearview mirror.

"Why are men pigs?!" She finally bursted out. Realising that she, in fact, had been speaking to a man, she clarified, "A select few, I mean."

He replied back, thoughtfully, "Hmm..."

The driver pressed onto the breaks when he saw the red light. He pondered whether she wanted his honest opinion, or whether she merely wanted to get something out of her chest. The taxi driver had gathered that the cashier hadn't seemed like the type of person fancied keeping quiet.

"Has this got to do with the incident from earlier?" he prodded.

"You heard that?" The cashier frowned.

The driver said, "Well, it wasn't hard to miss it. You have a lot of guts to do what you did, young lady."

"Are you saying that I'm wrong?" she rhetorically asked him, tone icy. "Was I meant to just watch it happen and not do anything about it? If I had, I'd be worse than that man!"

"No, I never said that you were wrong," the driver denied. "However, I do think you approached the situation wrong. He could have hurt you."

"He _could_ have." The cashier snorted. "Little does that idiot know that this woman knows a thing or two about kick-boxing. I would have gladly taken him on."

"That's not very lady-like."

"Well, that's not a great way to _describe_ a lady either." The cashier snapped. "That is what's wrong with people these days! Because I'm a female _doesn't_ mean I have to be stereotyped as mentally and physically weak. Men always think that we can be walked on. When I speak my opinion, I get looked down on. They say I'm not _passive_ enough - which is a lot of bullshit if you ask me! I don't want to be like my friends who end their careers to become appointed as the typical full-time housewife. Tell me, sir, how is that fair?"

"I didn't mean-"

She talked over him, "They say that nowadays is better, but I don't see a big change. Men still treat women like dirt and not as equals. They have it in their systems to dominate the world when the only difference is that while we have a set of boobs, they have a set of balls."

"Language!" The driver couldn't take it anymore. "I don't care whether you're female or male. I will not tolerate _anybody_ of your age to crudely yap around like a barbarian – especially when I'm the older one here."

The cashier sighed, noticing that she may have gone overboard with the stranger.

She apologised, "Sorry. My friends do tell me I get overly excited and passionate about things that strike a nerve."

"It's fine, miss," the driver said instantly.

He knew that he had also stepped over the boundary too. The taxi driver had been anything but professional. If his manager heard that he had yelled back at a customer, he would be dismissed on the spot.

Attempting to fill the void of awkwardness, the taxi driver turned on the radio. He noted that the young lady would bop her head to the songs, humming softly, as they threaded through the city.

Upon arrival to the clubbing area district, the taxi driver slowed down. "Did you want me to drop you off here?"

"Why?" The cashier questioned. "It's still five minutes away. We're on the right street though. Keep driving down."

He followed her instructions, driving further down the street. "Sorry about that. I thought you wanted to go to a club..."

The cashier eyed him through the mirror. The driver worried that she would get mad at him for his assumption - since she had been quite fiery all night - but to his surprise, the cashier cracked up laughing.

"With _this_ outfit?" the cashier exclaimed, incredulously. "No way. I'm going to my other part-time job. Besides, if I did go clubbing my parents would have my head tomorrow. They'd hate to see me hungover at church."

"Church?" the driver repeated, arching an eyebrow. He didn't know of anybody who believed in Christianity.

"Yeah. I've been attending mass ever since I was a kid. To be honest, I reckon my whole family would have been separated if it hadn't been for our religion."

"Why?" The driver asked, critically.

He didn't understand the concept of religion. How could there be a deity who was defined as the reason for the world's existence, and influence on particular things and events? It was too extreme for his liking.

"Because it's a habit. We see each other every Sunday. Even when all my siblings and I moved out of home, we're still a family when we go to church. It has always been that way." The cashier gave a wry grin. She blabbered on, "My family is big and we're all stubborn, so we're endlessly quarrelling. Yet, we restart our week and throw back our grudges every time Sunday comes along. I may not be the most religious person out there, but if it works for my family, I'd keep going to mass until the day I die."

The driver nodded, not knowing what to say.

His eyes softened as he gripped the steering wheel. Every second longer he spent with the cashier, he realised how wrong he had been about the young lady. She may have appeared hard on the outside, but she was in actuality warm in the inside.

"I used to get jealous of families with a small number, but now that I'm older...I wouldn't have it any other way." The cashier kept speaking, proudly. "Though, there are times when I wish that I was an only child because then I wouldn't be having to take extra jobs to pay off my tuition—talking about jobs, you can park here!"

The taxi driver swerved in front of a gas station. When he had pulled up the brakes, the cashier zipped up her jacket and placed the gas station's cap over her head, flicking out her ponytail.

"Thanks!" She clapped the money onto the tray, staggering out of the taxi.

He glanced at the coins and realised that she had given him five hundred yen extra.

"You've overpaid me!" The driver yelled after her.

The cashier grinned. "Don't worry about it, sir! You were going to call the police, right?"

" _What_?"

"Even though you were in the car the whole time, I knew you were keeping an eye out on me back there," she admitted. "I was brave enough to confront that man because I knew you were watching us."

The driver coughed. "I wasn't really."

" _Sure._..anyway, thanks again!" she said, giving him one last large wave before pivoting on her heels and disappearing into the distance.

He chuckled, driving off.

If there was one thing that taxi driver had learnt that night, it would be that ladies with obscene coloured hair potentially _could_ be nice.

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 **(a/n)** I seriously need to stop writing (new) fanfics. This one came about when I was listening to a song about the artist's father being a taxi driver..and therefore the plot to this story was created. It's quite experimental. Every chapter will be centred on a Digidestined from the driver's outlook. I'm estimating this will be 9 chp story. Just think of it as a series of one-shots.

Anywho, I hope you liked this chapter. Will edit this another time. ;)

Next Chapter: Germ Phobia ( _Jyou_ )


	2. Jyou: Mysophobia (Germ Phobia)

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

jyou

 **m** ysophobia

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It was freezing, therefore one would think that when the door opened the passenger would hop in and close it straight away.

 _Wrong._

At that moment a thin, tall man was whipping out a handkerchief and placing it on the surface of the seat. He meticulously then proceeded to pull on a pair of pickle green surgical gloves over each individual finger. The man sat down and strapped the seat belt on - giving it a secure tug as if doubting its safety - before diligently resting his leather briefcase on top of his lap.

The taxi driver couldn't contain his contentment that the door was finally closed because the weather was _absolutely_ ghastly. Winter never made him feel well, especially now the he was older. The coldness was triggering his arthritis for the worse that every time he would move, it felt like his bones would cry out in silent agony.

"Tokyo University Hospital," the man responded when the driver asked for his customer's desired destination.

The driver nodded, steering away from the passenger's residence.

Along the way, they drove past mansions and quite impressive looking buildings. It was to be expected considering the neighbourhood was a prestigious one. The taxi driver wasn't frequently present in the area because the residents living there often had their own personal chauffeurs, or possessed vehicles that costed the total amount of his yearly salary.

The driver wouldn't have been in the neighbourhood if it hadn't been for his previous passenger who happened to be a flamboyant, classy French lady that he had picked up from Shibuya. There was never humour listening to a person brag endlessly and, of course, to treat you like dirt on top of it. The whole drive had been torturous one because the woman had boasted non-stop in her broken Japanese how she would be marrying a government official in a couple of days.

When the driver had dropped her off in front of an imposing mansion, she had then proceed to force him to open the gate for her and _then_ had the nerve to flick her wrist and – actually – 'shoo _'_ him away. She had left him a thousand yen bill – like the amount was nothing - because she, _apparently_ , hadn't wanted any more notes in her wallet.

The _audacity_ that woman had.

Just thinking about the woman caused the driver to roll his eyes to himself. Her impudence would surely bite her in the behind one day or another. He really hoped it would. And, don't get him started on her perfume...Heaven forbid, her _perfume_!

Even now the driver could still smell the woman's overpowering perfume. The thought of it made him feel like regurgitating his lunch out of his mouth. His nose twitched at the thought. It was a fragrance the driver remembered all too well because he had driven many ladies who had doused themselves with the sickening, overbearing fragrance. The driver gripped onto the steering wheel, irritated at making himself more aware of the lingering scent in the stuffy air.

He reached out to turn on the air conditioning, but his arm hung in midair when he heard a yelp from the backseat.

The driver raised an eyebrow, questioning the passenger. "Did you not want the aircon on to get rid of the smell? I can roll down the windows if you prefer-"

"Do _not_ do such a thing!" The man panicked. "Do you know how much bacteria will circulate if you do that? And who knows how many microbes are crawling in your thick-infested germ friendly car?! If I wasn't running late, I wouldn't be here! I've already taken a risk stepping into this environment, and I do _not_ wish to take any disease with me as soon as I set foot out of your car. Do you understand?"

The driver said blankly, yet truthfully, "Not really?"

He wasn't sure if the man was joking or not. Was his customer seriously having a fit over the cleanliness of the taxi?

The man prodded on, "Do you disinfect every time you have a passenger?"

"No."

"Well, you should!" The passenger hissed in aghast.

The driver chose to keep quiet. Pushing on the subject on cleanliness did not seem wise because he was certain that the passenger was close to losing it. The driver wished the passenger would let out a chuckle and tell him that he was joking. Unfortunately, the passenger did not. The passenger's lips were in a firm humourless line and he could see fear sparkling in his dark beady, fretful eyes. Sitting straight, the passenger had his shoulders strained and square, hands balled tautly while exhaling and inhaling in a tattered, irregular sequence. The passenger bit down onto his bottom lip so hard, that the driver was almost certain he could see blood.

At the traffic lights, the driver was tempted to put some music on. The silence was killing him. However, he did not dare make the move. The driver was mindful of his passenger. If the man had made a fuss about the taxi driver turning the AC on, he could imagine what reaction would be elicited if he were to turn on the radio.

He focused then onto the humidity of the car. Because the taxi driver was, again, made self-aware of the stuffiness in the car, which therefore led to him vaguely picking up the scent of the perfume again.

The driver sniffed.

Oh no. He had already been overwhelmed by the pompous lady's perfume, but now he had to deal with its after effects! His nostrils were itching and his eyes were beginning all thanks to his allergies. In any moment he was going to...

" _A-ah-a-AHCHOO!"_

He sneezed.

From the explosion, tiny droplets of liquid dispersed into the air. As the driver glanced at the passenger via his rearview mirror, he noticed the mortified look on the man's face. The passenger was covering his head with his arms, as if bracing himself from a natural disaster.

The driver sneezed again; then _again._

And, after the sneezing had faltered, the passenger finally lifted his head. The driver was appalled when he witnessed the passenger reach into his briefcase, utilising a plastic bottle, to briskly spray at every direction he could access.

The driver noted that the woman's perfume was now replaced with a distinct, burning alcoholic odour. He gathered that the spray must have been some sort of air sanitiser, as his taxi now smelled of a cross between the clinical smell of a hospital and the artificial floral scent of toilet freshener.

"You should cover your mouth when you sneeze," the man spoke to the driver like he was a waddling toddler looking for trouble, despite being decades younger than him.

The passenger passed him a mask.

"I'm not sick," the driver denied.

"But you might be contagious," the passenger snapped back.

Giving up on arguing with the determined, stubborn, paranoid youngster, the driver looped the ties around each ear, covering his nose and mouth with the mask. He glanced at the passenger and saw that he too was _also_ placing on a mask over his face as well.

Wasn't it enough that the driver covered himself?

The driver had never seen anybody _this_ perturbed by sneezing.

The passenger chided on, "Under the microscope you'd be amazed how many disgusting little microbes slip into your living space and have the potential to carry life-threatening diseases. You should always be cautious and careful at all times because you never know what you'll catch! And step one to avoid the spread of contamination is containment! Therefore, masks and gloves are always efficient."

With every word the passenger dropped, the driver could see the creases on the man's forehead becoming gratingly deeper. The driver couldn't help but also feel stressed from how tense and frigid the man was. At the rate the passenger was worrying, the driver wondered whether the wrinkles would become permanent.

 _What was making the man so anxious? It can't possibly be only my sneezing fit..._

"Are you a student at the university?" The driver started, stirring their conversation elsewhere.

The driver wasn't one for small talk, as he preferred to let the passengers speak to him, because he didn't like to appear too intrusive. However, he had the sudden urge to speak to the man so that he could, at least, offer some assistance to alleviate the passenger from his prevailing distress.

"A doctor, actually," the man admitted, voice tailored in stress. "I graduated four years ago. They're inviting me back to give a lecture to the third year med students."

The driver praised, "Then you must be an alumnus that the university highly regards, doc."

"Perhaps," he said, wistfully. The driver's words seemed more of a burden than a compliment to him. He continued, "It's nerve-racking because I don't like talking in front of crowds. I'm only doing this because it's an requirement for my yearly development competency. If I had the option, I'd rather be behind my desk or in the lab doing my own research without anybody bothering me."

"You'll do fine," the driver reassured, thinking it was the right thing to do.

"I'm not too sure about that." The passenger said, "I almost urinated in my pants the last time. My friend, Taichi, told me to imagine the audience naked, but instead it made me feel even more intimidated because I felt truly disgusted. I then began to visualise pathogens secreting out of their dirty skin cells and, let's just say, it was a horrible experience. I almost fainted and fell off the stage. Thank God for security guards."

"At least you can learn from the experience, doc."

"No, I'm prone to bad luck," the man replied. "And please stop calling me doc. It's weird. Just call me Jyou. Kido, Jyou. That's my full name, but you probably won't care about that since I'm just another stranger that you most likely will never see again."

"Each person is important. I'm given the task to deliver you to your destination in one piece. I care about all safety of my customers. Driving may look like a lousy profession, but you still have to concentrate," the driver chuckled. "Anyway, I'm sure that you probably see as many people as I do, Jyou. Do you have a lot of patients?"

"If I get referrals from old colleagues, I'll check on them. I stopped working at the hospital last year. It gets too busy and sometimes it feels more like a jail than anything. These days I'm more in the lab. I used to do plenty night shifts. My rotating roster was horrible. Do you do nights?"

The driver nodded. "Not always, but it comes with the job. You get paid more money for it and I feel like a saviour whenever my passengers are grateful that they spot my cab when public transportation isn't available in the early hours of the morning."

"Hmm," Jyou said, thoughtfully. "Do you get a lot of drunks though? They're despicable. When I was an intern doing a rotation in Emergency, I'd get a truckload of them popping in during the weekends. I felt like I was going to lose it. They're so frustrating because they waste a hospital bed."

"I get them all the time. It comes with the profession, doesn't it?"

"Yes. You can never escape the drunks wherever you go, unfortunately." Jyou shuddered. "I dislike the drunks, but when you get the drunks who are also under the influence of an illegal substance – it makes life worse because you never know _what_ they have. I remember hearing a lot of horrifying stories when I had my mental health placement in second year. Do you know how _crazy_ people are?"

The driver supplied with a shrug, "I've had my fair share."

Perhaps the medical field was quite similar to his own job than he had anticipated?

"It's only in the health industry that you get exposed to insane people."

The driver chuckled again, turning left and then making a sharp turn right. He memorised this part of Tokyo off by heart, yet Jyou did not appreciate how quickly he had been driving.

"You should slow down," Jyou lectured. "Do you know how many people get into car accidents who become mentally impaired? It's because they're not cautious enough. Working at rehab-"

"I'm confused," the driver scoffed. "Emergency, mental health, rehab...where _exactly_ do you work?"

Jyou simply replied, "Infectious Disease."

The driver tried his hardest to keep a straight face, but failed and bursted out laughing. His laughter was luckily softened down from the mask that continued to cover his nose and mouth.

"What's so funny?"

" _Nothing_ ," the driver tersely lied.

It was like the doctor was _made_ to poke and make fun of. If the doctor's behaviour was always like this, the driver pitied the man because he imagined that Jyou's friends would most likely make him be the victim to their endless teasing.

How could the doctor specialise in infectious disease if he could hardly tolerate the driver from sneezing? The Gods must be ridiculing him. It was incorrigibly comical that despite Jyou having a severe germ-phobic paranoia, he continued to work as a doctor and study in a lab swarming with pathogens.

The taxi veered to the left, sliding behind a parked car a metre from the entrance of the university. The driver was grateful at the good timing because the driver knew that if the passenger was in the taxi any longer, he might say a offhanded comment that had the potential to offend the sensitive doctor unintentionally.

Jyou leaned forward, eyes squinting through his circular silver rimmed spectacles at the neon digits. His hands jostled through his briefcase and dug out a wallet, attentively getting the exact amount in coins and notes. He placed the fair onto the tray, but the money was accompanied with two white pads that were packaged in transparent plastic.

The driver arched an eyebrow.

"Heat pads," Jyou told him. "They're good for back pain and keeping you warm when the weather's bad. You peel off the back and put the sticky side onto your clothes. Don't put it directly onto the body, but put it on your first layer of clothing. My advice is that it works best between the shoulder blades. They're really nifty trinkets, if I don't say so myself."

"You know I have a bad back?"

"Head to toe assessment." Jyou said, ripping off the mask from his face. The driver saw the young man smile for the first time. "Besides, it's easy to know since you're driving all day. You need to take care of yourself too."

It was ironic because throughout the whole ride, the driver couldn't see the young man as a doctor and at that last minute of him being in the car, he realised how wrong he had actually been. The doctor was an observant one; the driver had to give him that.

"I need to go!" Jyou suddenly cursed, realising that spending that extra moment to explain to the driver of what and how the heat pad functions had taken up his time. "I'll be late! Thanks for driving me. Bye!"

The driver didn't hold back a chortle when he watched the lanky man sprint off into the distance, pickle green gloves contrasting against his black attire. Jyou almost tripped over his own feet, but he kept running until he disappeared into one of the buildings.

Taking the heat pads into his hands, the driver examined the packaging and then pocketed it into his jacket. He had missed the opportunity to thank the reliable and thoughtful doctor. It wasn't every day that the younger generation cared about a older person's welfare.

The driver whistled, winding down the windows without a second thought now that his passenger was gone.

Even if it was for a minute, the driver could finally get rid of the repulsive, pungent perfume that was now combined with the repulsive smell of sanitiser. Much to the doctor's chagrin, the driver knew that he'd rather be attacked by all the germs in the world than endure the smell any longer.

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 **(a/n)** Like/Hate? Haha. I had fun writing this because Jyou's quite an oxymoron in this one-shot.

* will edit another day (as per usual)

Next Chapter: It'll be either Mimi or Sora. ;)


	3. Sora: Elegant Sports Fanatic

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

sora

 **e** legant **s** ports **f** anatic

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"Tokyo is experiencing the hottest summer of the decade."

The driver wordlessly nodded to himself, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief to soak up the perspiration from his forehead.

He couldn't agree more with the forecaster, as he knew from first hand experience how dramatic the changes in weather had been over the years.

Everybody blamed it on climate change; but despite people pointing their finger at this reason, there was never any action done about it. The driver could blame it on the Japanese government as they were passive whenever addressing pressing issues. In all honestly, it was like that pink elephant in the room that people failed to address. Regardless of it all, other countries fell under the same category. Big governments all over the world yapped on about climate change; but nobody acted on it.

Years of driving around in the taxi had constantly caused him to discern the weather, as it became ingrained into his job requirements. The weather would always be a safe topic to talk about; especially when taxi drivers dealt with a broad range of customers as the weather naturally impacted on everybody's lives.

Through the sun's glare, from the corner of his eyes the taxi driver spotted a lady across the other side of the intersection. She frantically waved her pastel peach uchiwa at him to get his attention, not like she needed to anyway. Amongst the bustling business people that flocked around Shinjuku Station, the lady's clothing contrasted against the dull greys, blacks and whites.

She wore a yukata, a very odd feat considering that there were no festivals to be celebrated that day. The yukata's thin fabric was styled with an intricate floral print of cherry blossoms, mainly coloured with a light beige and deep burgundy. Throughout the yukata, the colours were accompanied with dashes of gold that added a uniqueness to the design. A golden obi was tied around her thin waist, accenting the yukata even more. In fact, the driver thought that the lady had particularly chosen the styled yukata because it matched well with her shoulder-length fiery auburn hair.

As the driver did a u-turn, vehicle lurching to the opposite side of the road. As he drove towards the woman, the driver noticed another taxi slide into the right lane besides him. It was when the other taxi in the next lane began to rev up, the driver sped in front of him.

The other taxi was trying to steal his customer!

Gritting his teeth, the driver stepped harder onto the accelerator and immediately braked when he was in front of his subject.

"Serves you right!"

The taxi driver couldn't help but give a smug smirk as he watched the younger disgruntled taxi driver drive past him. The other driver may have had youth on his side, but the older taxi driver definitely had the experience. Nevertheless, the young driver had no respect to snag his passenger when he clearly had set eyes on her first.

It wasn't that the taxi driver was being biased because the customer was a lady; it was just that he was tired of driving around angry, stiff, drunk or boring office-men that day. The driver's company had stationed him around the business district for the day, and he had enough of it. At least this lady looked interesting and was less likely to start trouble than the few drunks had almost vomited inside the vehicle from the previous trip.

The passenger door opened and the lady slid in, one leg after the other. She wiped the back of her hand against her forehead and commented, "Boy, it's humid outside!"

"Would you like me to make the AC colder?" The driver offered.

"Don't worry about it, sir. I just need to cool down a bit and I'm sure it'll be fine," she reassured him. Her cheeks were pink from the heat, but instead of feeling flat from the weather, a huge smile plastered on her face.

"Where to, miss?"

"Hm...I'm not sure of the address or the name of the place, but I do know a few landmarks where it is near." She spoke up, "Do you know the Starbucks that is a bit out of Shibuya and is across Lawson and Yoshinoya? It's on the same block."

The driver thought for a minute before giving a slow nod. "Yes...I think I know of it. Is the Starbucks next to Softbank?"

"That's it!" The passenger grinned, "I would usually make my way there from Shibuya station, but it's about a fifteen minute walk and it's too boiling to be pushing amongst the crowds right now."

"Quite understandable, miss," the driver replied.

Despite the air-conditioning almost on full blast, he could feel sweat soaking the back of his shirt from the friction between the leather seat and his back.

They drove in silence at first, until the driver observed that the lady was a fidgeter.

At the beginning of the ride, the lady had been sitting upright on the backseat. Yet, as they progressed down the street, from the rearview mirror, the driver noticed that she was slowly slipping down the seat in a more comfortable position. Her fingers then started to tap against the seat, making a dull rhythm of thuds that – in time – the driver would find irritating. But what had almost caused the driver to gape, was when she unthinkingly spread her legs out and began to roughly fan herself with the uchiwa.

The driver letted out a sigh of relief when he noted that the lady was actually wearing black pants under the yukata. He hadn't meant to look, but he found himself curious about his passenger. For one, the lady was wearing a yukata and the driver couldn't help but stare at her actions because she was peculiar. Although she was garbed in traditional clothing, her movements were of a middle-aged man.

"Sir, can you please turn the radio on?" The passenger politely requested, but her voice was laced with restrained urgency.

"Any particular station?"

"178 please."

The driver raised an eyebrow at her, almost certain that he had misheard her. "Are you sure? It's not a music station, miss."

"I know," she replied, bluntly.

Shrugging, the taxi driver followed the lady's command and switched the volume up.

". _..passes to Honda. Australia's Smith is trying to intervene, but wait! Honda's slipped it to Haraguchi. They're a metre from the goal post now!_ "

The driver watched as the lady was at the edge of her seat. Jaw tight, and hands gripping each other in prayer, she continued to intently listen to the commentator.

"- _Goal keeper, Ryan, is intent on blocking Haraguchi – but wait! Haraguchi's kicked it! He scores!"_

"YESSSSSS!" The lady bellowed.

The car swerved. Immediately, the taxi driver skilfully retained control of the car. It was lucky that her screaming hadn't landed them into an accident, as she had completely disrupted the driver's concentration. By her shrieking her lungs out over the goal, it was a miracle that the driver's eardrums hadn't sustained any permanent trauma.

" _We have a goal! Japan – 1. Australia – O."_

As if not learning from the verge of their _almost_ car accident, the lady began excitedly jumping on her seat like a five-year old.

Where was the mysterious lady the driver thought she was? She looked ridiculous carrying on the way she did, especially when she was attired in a yukata. How was it possible that this woman was an avid soccer fan?

The driver scratched the back of his head. He was now beginning to regret racing against the younger taxi driver for this customer. Although he was old; he valued his life, thank you very much. This lady was loopy. She lady had the potential to trigger him to have a heart attack if she had suddenly yelled out of nowhere when Japan had had scored.

He'd have to take extra precautions driving this lady, even though they would make her destination within the next five minutes.

"The game's only just started and we've already scored! We're going to beat them, sir! We're going to kill Australia in this match!"

Heaven's forbid, he wished they could arrive at their location sooner. He didn't know if he could withstand her obsessive raving on about her fanatics.

The lady reached into her brown handbag, manoeuvring a small water bottle out of it. She uncapped it, gulping down almost half the bottle in one go. It was amusing that she appeared lady like all dressed in her yukata, but the driver mused that she was anything but as she had unmannerly chugged down the water like a thirsty camel. She let out a satisfied, refreshed sigh, brushing the sleeve of her yukata to dry her mouth.

" _Nishikawa has the ball. He kicks it to Sakai. Sakai dribbles past Luongo and Yamaguchi receives it. Looks like Kobayashi is about to – no, actually...Giannou is now in possession. Australia's got the ball!_ "

The lady frowns, fist connecting lightly to the window. For a moment the driver was frightened she would break it.

"- _Hasebe snatches the ball from Juric! Japan's back in possession_!"

"Yes, yes, _yes!_ " The lady cried out.

Her feet was now pattering on the base of the vehicle, causing the car to shake.

He needed her to calm down. As the driver didn't know what to do and halt her from rowdily acting the way she did, so he resorted to giving a gruff cough. This tactic usually worked for him. It saved the driver from sounding too bossy, without actually anybody off.

The lady reactively blinked. It was like she been home, watching the game on TV instead, having completely forgotten that she was still actually in the taxi.

"I think we have a chance. Japan might possibly win this one!" She said, prodding him to participate in this one-sided conversation, "Don't you think, sir?"

The taxi driver wasn't sure how to reply to her. " _Uh_..."

"You don't follow soccer?" The lady looked at him disappointedly, picking up on his hesitation.

The driver admitted, "No. I'm more of a baseball fan. When it comes to soccer I have no idea, but on the other hand if you're talking about the _Hanshin Tigers_ and I can go on and on about them for days."

"That baseball team's from the Kansai area," she pointed out.

He gave a wry smile. "I was born and raised in Osaka."

It wasn't often he talked about his hometown to his customers, as he had moved to the big city – Tokyo – when he was in his early twenties after he had wedded. He had adjusted to residing in the Kanto area now and was more familiar with it than the Kansai area. The last time he had been back in Osaka was years ago when he had to attend his mother's funeral. The taxi driver spent most of his annual leave staying in Tokyo with his family because it was convenient, and meant he wouldn't have to worry about traveling fees and expenses.

"You must own a takoyaki maker then," The woman said, off-handedly.

Even though the driver knew that she was stereotyping him, he had seen the way her lips quirked slightly upwards. She was intending for him to take offence at her sly comment. Tokyo and Osaka always had a rivalry, and the more time the driver spent with the lady, the more he realised how competitive she really was.

The driver chuckled. "Of course I do. The takoyaki here will never be as good as the takoyaki back in Osaka."

She laughed.

"I have to say though, Kyoto does produce good fabric. I make and design yukatas for a living. I actually bought this fabric, that I'm wearing, from Kyoto last month."

"Really?" The driver said, surprised. "I wouldn't think that. I thought you had been to a special event today. You must be gifted if you made that? It looks great."

"That's what good about yukatas," she smiled. "They're loose, comfortable, light and perfect for nice weather. They make you look elegant without trying."

The driver was about to say that her yukata had given him quite the impression, and that he would have never have linked her to being quite the tomboy – especially when it came to soccer. Yet, as he was about so speak of it, from the reflection in the mirror, the driver bit his tongue as could see that the lady was back in a trance as she eagerly listened to the radio.

"- _blocks to goal. Australia's got one great goal keeper!_ "

Her laughter is diminished when the lady heard the recent update. She was glowering as she swore out loud, "Damn it!"

The driver was amused, allowing the lady to savour the rest of the commentary on the radio as they were a corner away from where she wished to be dropped off.

" _Sainsbury's making his way down to centre. He slides it to McGowan. Ryan's blocking Kagawa from attacking. McGowan sails past Morishige – and nice save from Yoshida!_ "

Parking the vehicle on the side of the road, the driver turned around to her, "It's such a gripping match, but we're here now, miss."

"Oh... _oh!"_ The lady replied, uncertain why the vehicle had stopped because she had been immersed in the game. She pried inside her purse, tapping her card to the machine. She gave a grateful bow. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!"

She didn't wait for him to reply, as she was already hurrying out of the taxi. One hand was holding her handbag, the other was holding a phone against her ear.

The driver turned off the engine. He didn't know why he hadn't left, but he felt like it was his duty to watch over her. He wanted to make sure she'd get into the building in one piece. The lady's mind was already scatterbrained from the excitement and adrenaline from listening to the game, so he wanted to at least ensure his customer's safety.

"A sports bar?" The driver spoke to himself.

He chuckled, not even surprised at the lady's selected destination.

At the entrance, fanatics garbed up in Japan's colours huddled into the building. The lady continued to stand there until a group of men began to surround her.

The taxi driver looked on, slightly alarmed by the influx of men that were in the lady's presence.

He laughed when he found the lady only react to the men by bringing them in all into a tight group hug. With a bundle of arms around everybody's shoulders, they chanted a tune that the taxi driver had no idea of, before jumping up and down in loud, boisterous excitement. One man with untameable brown hair gave the lady a celebratory hug, while a taller man with dirty blond hair diligently made his way to wrap his own soccer scarf around the lady's neck. She looked up at the man and shyly simpered.

Together, the group proceeded to walk inside the bar. The taxi driver assumed that they were going to finish watching the remainder of the soccer game.

Oddly enough, the lady looked at home surrounded with the fanatic soccer goons...even if she was dressed in a floral patterned yukata.

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* * *

 **(a/n)** Perfect timing that the Japan x Australian game was on this week. It reminded me that I needed to update this story because I was always going to have Sora go sport-fanatic crazy at some point. It's been something I've wanted to do for a while. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it ;)

** Lots of Kansai references here (because I couldn't help myself)...

 _Kyoto/Osaka are cities that fall in the Kansai area._

 _Hanshin Tigers are a popular baseball team, also hailing from the Kansai area._

 _& Osaka is known for their takoyaki._

Next chapter: Daisuke and Ken :D


	4. Daisuke & Ken: When It's All Nuts

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

** special thanks to _FanficRadio_ (on youtube) for audiobooking the first chapter to this story!

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

daisuke & ken

 **w** hen **i** t's **a** ll **n** uts

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People flooded out of the national theatre.

Some dressed simply, others dressed extravagantly and over-the-top. The taxi driver even had spotted one lady with a large, peacock feather in her hair. He pitied the person sitting behind her because throughout the ballet performance, that hair piece would have spoiled the person's view.

 _How inconsiderate_

But what else should have he expected? The crowd that attended these events tended to have a lavish way to spend money.

The taxi driver often thought of people who watched ballet performances as quite peculiar. Many youngsters were fascinated by international performers, obsessing over western art that was not as prominent in the Japanese culture. Then again, there were a select few of English _otakus_ who loved anything westernised.

This wasn't the taxi driver's case. As close minded as he could be at times, the taxi driver still liked Japan's art and culture over the westerner's world of entertainment. He would never go out of his way to watch an Italian opera singer or watch a Broadway show. The taxi driver appreciated spectating a good old-fashioned sumo match, seeing a traditional _kabuki_ or laughing his heart out over a traditional _rakugo_ story (the latter, he enjoyed the most).

" _Yes_!" the driver muttered to himself when the vehicle before him drove off.

Now that he had been bumped up in front of the taxi queue, the driver pressed lightly on the accelerator before braking again. He couldn't wait to get out of this traffic. He could finally pick up his passengers and get out of this war zone.

He pressed a button behind the steering wheel, causing the backseat door to spring open and allowing his customers to scurry into the vehicle. The taxi driver spared the couple a prompt glance before driving out of the taxi queue and back onto the main road.

"Where- _uh_ …"

The taxi driver was about to ask his passengers where they were headed, but his blood turned cold when he caught the reflection of figures moving on the rearview mirror.

His nose scrunched up in repulsion.

The passengers were on each other. There was a man with brown, spiked up hair who was dominating the kiss. He had his arm around his partner's waist, leaning over sticking his tongue deeply down her throat. He heard a moan and, immediately, the taxi driver felt a wave of queasiness flip-flop in his stomach. Boy, did he feel squeamish.

He noted that the woman had shoulder-cropped hair, when she turned away from him as the man bit on her neck. It was a good thing that she was wearing pants because at the rate the man was going, the driver was sure he'd be running his hands up her skirt if she had picked out a dress.

Couldn't they save it for a bed? Why did they have to make out for? Why did they have to do it here; in his _sanctified_ taxi?

" _Daisuke_ ," her raspy voiced cried out. "Stop it."

The man kept kissing her and the taxi driver shook his head. The taxi driver wanted to close his eyes to erase the image of the couple getting caught up in heat of the moment, but alas, he had to stare at the road and had no choice but to do head checks as he overtook other vehicles. Nevertheless, it was debatable whether the taxi driver would have preferred to drive straight into a curb than see any more of the couple's passionate romping behaviour.

Finding a vacant parking space on the side of the road, the taxi driver swerved into the gap.

"A destination would be great," the driver grunted. He rested an arm around the passenger seat and leaned back to his customers. Arching an eyebrow, he continued, "Well?"

If his boss had heard him speak this way, he would get fired on the spot. However, the driver had little tolerance when people disrespected him and weren't courteous enough to keep their manners in check.

"I told you to get off me!" The woman huffed. She pushed the man, whose name was apparently Daisuke, off her and sat straight.

Daisuke gave a boyish smirk, folding his arms and looking fondly at the driver. "Anywhere would have been good, mister driver."

The woman rolled her eyes. She dug out something from her wallet and passed a folded piece of paper to the driver.

"Don't mind my partner. He's drunk. Never did like the ballet, but went along with it because I like it," she murmured. "Probably was a mistake that I told him that it's something I like to do in my past time...a bad mistake."

"Come on, you loved it," Daisuke yawned.

The taxi driver turned the centre light on, illuminating the vehicle so that he could scrutinise the piece of parchment. "He lives in Shibuya. I know the place in and out, so it shouldn't be hard to find…"

"You need to put it on the GPS because it's a new area."

When the taxi driver was about to tell her that he was sure it was where they knocked down the old warehouse district, his breath got caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to stare long, but when he had seen the hickey on the woman's neck...the taxi driver realised that the woman was, in fact, not a woman at all. The lighting had shown him something he hadn't realised. There was an Adam's apple…

 _A man?!_

Although the taxi driver was trying to disguise his shocked expression, a knowing look flashed on his customer's face. They exchanged an awkward stare until Daisuke cut in with a slurred voice, "Hey? Can we stop by a convenient store? I want those chocolate-coated macadamia nuts. Do you know how _delicious_ they taste?"

Daisuke might have not known what he was talking about, since he was miles away from being sober, but somehow his words were relatable to the current situation.

It was all nuts; no pun intended.

The exchanged staring that the driver still held with the other customer broke from awkward to hilarious. The driver was holding onto his sides from stopping him from barking out in laughter, while the customer used a femininely gesture and covered his mouth to, also, stifle back his giggles.

There was no surprise to why the taxi driver had assumed the other male customer was a woman. Right down to his mannerisms, the driver would have thought he was a female if it hadn't noticed the slight bulge on his customer's neck.

"Save it for another time, Daisuke," his partner choked out.

Daisuke scolded, "What if I don't want to, Ken-ken?"

"Come on." His partner gave an exasperated sigh.

"I had to go through that whole two hours of girls and men in tights. If you ask me, since we already see enough from the _bulge_ , they should have done the ballet commando," Daisuke said, cheekily. "Then the ballet would have been _much_ more interesting. In fact, it would have been nuts."

Ken complained. "No more nutty jokes."

"It's my specialty."

"Fine. I'll buy you them." Ken succumbed, acknowledging that it would be impossible to endure the car drive without Daisuke munching on the chocolates. "Stay put."

Daisuke rolled down the window and yelled, "Don't get the almond ones! The macadamia ones are better!"

The driver's vision was tearing up. He wiped the corner of his eyes and proceeded to type in the address on the GPS. It wasn't like him to enter a designated location on the GPS, but perhaps it would better if he did that night, seeing that he couldn't think straight now that he had been completely caught off guard by the homosexual pair.

When Ken had gone off on the errand, Daisuke got out of the car. The driver was bemused, almost thinking that they men were going to do a runner, until Daisuke sat on shotgun.

His voice turned dead serious, despite the scent of liquor that reeked off his clothes.

Zeroing in on the driver, he spat. "So you're not going to say anything?"

"About what?" The driver chose to question the man.

He knew the liquor was influencing his words, so he decided to speak in a calm, reserved tone. He had dealt with enough drunks to know how to react when they got all defensive. However, this situation differed from others because it was a touchy subject.

Daisuke stated, "That we're together."

"No." The driver shrugged. "It's your business; not mine. My job is drive my passengers around. I don't have time to badmouth and spread rumours around when I don't even know you..Mr…Mr?"

" _Motomiya_."

That was when the driver realised who, in fact, he was speaking to.

 _Now he knew who the man was…_

This wasn't an ordinary customer. This customer was the CEO of one of the most famous ramen carts in the country. The taxi driver now knew why Daisuke was protective of himself and his partner, because he wanted to protect his reputation, and his company's reputation.

In a sense, it was sad that something like this could damage his company's image.

"My lips are sealed," the driver said. "But you need to promise me one thing-"

Daisuke raised an eyebrow. "Are we making a deal? Are you _actually_ blackmailing me?"

"No. Definitely no." The driver coughed. "I...I just want you to keep the kissing and groping away from my car!"

His customer laughed. Shoulders less tense as he stretched upwards, touching the ceiling. "Deal."

Daisuke shuffled back to the passenger seat, lounging onto it and resting his head onto the window. He appeared more relaxed now that he had spoken to the taxi driver.

"Thanks." Daisuke said, rambling now, "It's just, I don't really care what happens to me...but Ken is quite sensitive over this, over us-"

"Of course," the taxi driver said.

They waited a bit longer, and since Ken hadn't returned, if felt odd that the driver stop the conversation with his previous close ended answer. "How did you lovebirds meet anyway?"

A wry smile appeared on Daisuke's expression, so wide that the driver questioned himself it was the right thing to ask the young man.

"I caught him staring at my nuts."

He exclaimed out loud, " _What?_ "

Forget it. The taxi driver should have _not_ asked him at all. Usually he asked about first encounters with heterosexual couples in his vehicle, but of course Daisuke and Ken's story would be far beyond different.

"We were on the same soccer team when we were adolescents. One day, when we were stripping in the change rooms, I caught him staring at my nuts longer than the other boys," Daisuke chuckled. "And that's when I knew."

"You knew?"

"I had an inkling," Daisuke admitted. "But I didn't know I was gay until I actually started thinking about Ken in _that_ way. The more I thought about it; the more I realised that I actually liked him…of course, I was first to come out and tell him blatantly, and Ken, well, he was a stuttering mess. We were equally confused together."

"And then what?"

"Well, let's just say...we _experimented._ "

The taxi driver was guffawing now, and Daisuke shared a similar sense of amusement. The laughter continued until Ken returned with boxes of chocolate-coated macadamia nuts (which made the Daisuke and the driver erupt into another series of laughter), and a three bottles of water for each of them.

"Thank you," the driver gave a curt nod.

"Thought I owed you the favour because I left you with him." Ken commented, "What exactly did you end up talking about?"

Daisuke kept speaking, "My nuts."

"Not again." Ken groaned. "You _love_ talking about your nuts, Daisuke! Tone it down, will you?"

Daisuke winked. "Never. I could talk about my balls-"

" _Stop_."

The taxi driver shook his head, laughing again. He hadn't thought his night would turn out this interesting, having been certain that he would be chauffeuring back a wealthy couple home post their ballet-enlightening experience. Who would have thought that he would be driving a gay couple around?

The driver's foot slid off the brake, changing his footing over to the accelerator. The car lurched and they were in action again. Driving back onto the street, the driver followed the route that the navigator displayed.

For some reason, the driver found himself trying to be subtle as he spared another look at the couple. He gave a soft smile when he saw that Daisuke had fallen asleep. His head was resting on Ken's shoulder and they were _actually_ holding hands.

He realised he was fine with it. For the taxi driver, a page had turned. He now accepted the same sexed couple without flinching. Had he really caught up with the times now? If his parents knew about this, they'd have a heart attack.

Having had been raised, it had been drilled in his head, that the same gender should _never_ be together. His parents told him that, his teachers, his friends, his extended family. Yet, somehow, he now didn't understand _why_ they had told him that. No matter what, same gender couples didn't matter to him. As long as the couple loved each other, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, wasn't that enough?

Besides, the times had changed. He had found out through mutual friends that some of his old classmates had been getting divorces because they had 'come out' and had used marriage to disguise their homosexuality. At some periods during his life, even the driver had been disgusted and even - to the point - _angry_ about same sex couples for not being part of society's norm...but who was he to judge? He hadn't understood then; but now he knew better. After all, he could never forget when his ex-girlfriend broke up with him to be with another woman. The thought still traumatised him.

Yet, as he stared on at the snug couple behind him, it felt _right_.

They were happy together; so why should people's prejudices destroy something that is a positive?

It wasn't like they were going to inflict fights between people and cause drama. There were worse worries out there, like nuclear weapons, corrupt politicians, the homeless, the poor, wars and climate change. So why was the general public so stuck against gays? Even in the Japanese media, there were a handful of gay comedians that weren't discriminated, yet why was it that same sex couples continued to be looked down upon?

This couple wasn't an old one either. They were a young couple and they weren't afraid of hiding. It was courageous that they went around Tokyo, not afraid to show themselves in public, as a couple.

As he continued to drive his passengers, the taxi driver selected an easy-listening station on the radio and dimmed the music down, making it buzz in the background. He made sure not to make it too loud that Daisuke didn't wake up. It wasn't very long now. They'd get there in ten minutes once the traffic settled, and at least the drunk man could get some brief shut eye at least.

Instead, the awake passenger shattered the quietness, "Thanks, sir."

"For what?" The taxi driver asked.

He didn't think that Ken should be expressing gratitude this early. The taxi driver hadn't even dropped them off at their destination yet...so why now?

"Oh, you know..." The person, that the driver thought was a woman, replied. He let out a bright laugh when the taxi driver didn't reply. He spoke up again, "Thanks for not judging us, I mean."

The taxi driver nodded, not knowing what else to say.

When they arrived, Ken swiped his credit card and paid for the fair. He got out of first, waking up Daisuke, and placed an arm around him as they struggled to get out of the vehicle.

"Bye!" Daisuke saluted and Ken bowed.

The driver gave a gentle smile as he watched the couple leave. Although they men were dealing with a stigma, that shouldn't exist, the driver knew that they were generally good kids.

Despite it all, that didn't stop the driver from opening the drawer in the front compartment and grabbing a bottle. The bottle was something he had stored inside the taxi ever since he had crossed paths with a manic, anti-germ crazed doctor.

He used the sanitiser to spray the area where the two men had been. The driver watched as the cloud of droplets sprinkle slowly over the seats, sinking into the grains of the fabric. Making out couples in his taxi would always remain disgusting to him.

Gay or not, it made no difference to the taxi driver.

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 **(a/n)** So nutty indeed...-_-"

My first attempt at Daiken, which is dedicated to _knifeoframen_. Heck, it's my first attempt at MxM in general (unless you're counting me writing taito bromance - but that doesn't count). Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for still hanging out and reading this too ;)

Next chapter: Probably Hikari. Probably.

Oh, and thanks to _FanficRadio_ (on youtube) for audiobooking the first chapter to this story! If you search up "purple haired feminist" and "digimon" on the youtube search engine, it should be the first video to pop up.


	5. Hikari: A Pregnant Pause

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

** although they've removed it (because I think they're in the process of redoing it), i wanted to give a special thanks to _FanficRadio_ (on youtube) for taking this story on as a project for an audiobook. and even more special thanks to _fantasyguardian_ for recommending that they pick this story :)

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

hikari

 **a** **p** regnant **p** ause

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She was bawling when she swung her legs into the taxi.

Her brown, chestnut hair fell over her eyes as she buckled up. The lady was young, wearing a neutral pale, off-white dress with its length hanging just below her knees. She used the back of her wrist to wipe away the tears that descended down her face. Her hands rested on her thighs, shrugging her hair away from her face as she bit her bottom lip from sobbing out loud.

"9-30 Sarugaku-cho, Shibuya." The lady spoke, tearfully.

She was sniffing when she had said the address out loud, but the taxi driver managed to interpret the location and type it into the GPS.

The taxi driver prided himself for knowing places around the city, but when the lady was close to hysterical and telling him the exact address, he wanted to make sure she reached the accurate destination on time. He didn't want to drive aimlessly around, especially in Shibuya, as it was crowded enough. If he were to take a risk and assume where the lady wanted to go and if he took the wrong turn, there was a possibility that he could actually tip the lady even _more_ off the iceberg. He didn't want to cause the lady any more waterworks now that she had slowly gotten a hold of herself.

When the traffic lights flashed amber, the taxi driver slowly stepped onto the brake. He used this opportunity to open the glove compartment and take out a box of tissues. He didn't know what she was going through, but it was the least he could do.

"Thank you," She whispered, dabbing around her eyes and blowing her nose into a tissue. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was tinged a light pink. "Thanks for being so considerate.."

He replied, "Not at all. It's never nice to witness a young lady, like yourself, cry. I hope you'll have a better day. We all have bad ones-"

"Oh, no. That's not it." The lady shook her head. "Actually, I'm very happy. I think it's my hormones playing up, but then again I don't know how to react or feel at the moment. I even feel sad about this!"

The taxi driver blinked in bemusement. "Huh?"

"It's a combination. I'm a bit of everything. To be honest, I don't even know what's going on with me!" She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this; I'm not usually this crazy."

"Trust me, I've met crazier." The taxi driver responded, dryly.

He regretted choosing those words because the lady resorted not to reply to him, but to _instead_ abruptly wind down the window and yell out of the car, "TOUYA-KUN?"

The lights were still red, but the way the lady was acting was making the taxi driver anxious. Ah, another person to add to his 'crazy' list.

Trying to maintain professional, the driver started, "Er...miss? Perhaps you want to step out of the taxi and..."

"STOP THE CAR!" The lady shrieked.

In the process, her sudden outcry almost caused the driver, himself, to jump off his seat also. It was a close call because if the taxi driver had done so, his foot would have slid off the brake and they would have been crashing into the ongoing truck.

Just when the taxi driver could not think that the situation potentially could get worse, the lady lifted her backside off the seat and poked her head out of the window as she pointed at the kid. "TOUYA-KUN!"

The taxi driver let out a gasp, gripping the wheel. He said, furiously, "Have you lost your mind, lady?"

She ignored him, gesturing for the boy to advance towards them. "T-Touya-kun?"

At the curb, there was a boy wailing. The boy looked less than five years of age, wearing a pre-school uniform and a yellow bucket hat. When the lady had uttered his name for the fourth time, the boy looked up at the taxi with big, wide eyes as a wave of recognition sparked in his eyes when he saw the person screaming out his name. His crying ceased as he allowed his short legs to waddle towards where the car. The frown on his lips was replaced with a small smile.

"Open the door." The lady told the taxi driver, "He's one of my kids."

There was a pregnant pause.

The taxi driver tried to hide his expression. He was appalled. What did the lady mean by one of _her_ kids? She appeared as if she were in her early twenties, which therefore meant that she would have the child as a teenager? And, the fact, that the lady was _actually_ acknowledging that she had more than one kid was absolutely baffling. What was wrong with the youth these days? How could her parents have allowed it? When did she stray off the wrong path? If the taxi driver's own daughter did this, he would have a heart attack!

Nevertheless, the taxi driver bit his bottom lip from saying anything rude and glanced back at the lady.

Was that boy really her child?

He frowned.

Wait-or...or was the lady kidnapping a kid off the street?

Surely the boy was lost- _oh no,_ unless the lady was actually meaning to lose her kid? Was that why she was crying? Because she had wanted to abandon the poor kid? That was probably why the lady was happy, yet sad to get rid of her son because she had so many children that she couldn't afford to care for them all-

Should the taxi driver really allow the kid to be a passenger? Should he report the lady to police for tangible kidnapping? He needed to head straight towards the Police Station immediately. Who would have thought that this young, innocent-looking lady could be prone to committing such a crime? It disgusted him. It-what-wait?

The boy beamed, reaching out to hold the lady's hand. "Mrs. Takaishi!"

Since the taxi driver hadn't opened the door, the lady bent over to the other side of the taxi and flung it open herself. The boy hopped in without hesitation. The kid cried out, "I was so scared. I lost mother and I didn't know where she went."

"Change of location, mister. Please take us to Yuki Preschool. It's a block from here."

"And why would I do that?" The taxi driver finally spoke up. He didn't trust the lady and he couldn't rule out that she could possibly that she still may be a lunatic.

"Because I'm his teacher."

" _Oh…_ "

So the boy wasn't her son.

Now that was awkward. Why hadn't he thought about it earlier? The taxi driver couldn't help but feel quite foolish how he had judged the young woman. Was he losing his mind? Or perhaps he was going senile? Scratch that. The taxi driver, himself, might actually have to entitle him as the crazy one for thinking the way he had. It had been a long day…

And to think that he even jumped to the conclusion that the lady had kidnapped the kid!

What _was_ he thinking?

Mrs. Takaishi explained, "There's an address book that contains all the parents' numbers at the school. I need to contact his parents so they don't get worried. It's very easy to lose yourself when Shibuya is bustling with so many people."

After following the lady's instructions, the driver parked outside the Preschool.

"Do you mind if you wait a bit?" The lady questioned him. "I still need a lift to the address. I promise to pay you more if you wait-"

"It's fine," he reassured her. "As long as you get that kid back to his mother."

The lady gave an apologetic smile, hurrying out of the car and ducking into the school. Minutes later she walked out of the building and gave a wide grin. "Touya-kun, your parents will be here soon."

She sat back inside the car and handed Touya and the taxi driver a strawberry flavoured dessert.

After thanking the lady, the driver bit into the mochi and smiled. It had been a while since he had tasted the delicacy. His wife often told him off for having a sweet tooth, worrying that he'd get diabetes, so the taxi driver used his utmost self-control to not indulge in sweet food as of lately. However, when Mrs. Takaishi offered him the dessert, he couldn't find himself to reject her as mochi had always been his favourite traditional delicacy. It was his weakness.

Mochi brought back memories of when he was a child, begging for his own parents to buy him the sugary treat. The driver only indulged in the dessert on special occasions, and tasting the glutinous rice in his mouth reminded of him how it was like when he used to be young.

When Touya's parents arrived to collect him, the driver watched as they bowed multiple times at Mrs. Takaishi in gratitude. The teacher saw them off before going back into the taxi.

As the lady closed the door, she murmured, "Thank you again, mister."

"Not at all." The taxi driver waved off. He was still feeling sheepish for suspecting the young woman, when it was clear that she had good intentions all along. "Did you still want to go to your original location?"

"Yes please."

The taxi driver pressed onto the accelerator, gliding smoothly into the traffic. He broke the silence, "Sensei, that was very kind of you."

"It's in my job requirement," Mrs. Takaishi humbly spoke back.

"Even if it wasn't in your job, it was very observant of you to catch the kid all alone on the street. I hadn't even noticed him amongst all the people there. Then again, I'm sure that some people had but would have pretended not to notice him because they didn't want to take responsibility-"

"That's because some people can be _really_ stupid." From the rear view mirror, the taxi driver caught the lady folding her arms. "Anyway mister, I know you would have done the same."

The taxi driver nodded. He wasn't part of the oblivious crowd to leave a child stranded in the middle of the street. There had been numerous occasions when the taxi driver had paused the pay metre and had driven lost children to the Police Station. It may not have been in the job requirements as the teacher's, but the taxi driver couldn't merely sit around and witness a child breakdown in an unfamiliar environment. Even if he wasn't getting paid for it, the taxi driver could never be that _cruel_.

"Besides you _are_ a parent so you know exactly how devastated you'd be if you ever lost a child."

"How do you even know that I have children, Sensei?" The taxi driver asked as his interest piqued.

The lady pointed at the photo that draped down from the rearview mirror. It was a family photograph that consisted of himself, his wife and the taxi driver's three children: Souta, Chiyako and Takumi.

"I caught you staring at the photo a couple of times," Mrs. Takaishi admitted. "They must be really special to you."

The taxi driver paused at the red lights, actually taking the liberty to turn around and tell her, "My kids may be a pain in the butt at times, but I do love them."

"Of course you do," Mrs. Takaishi smiled, however it faltered when she kept speaking, "Though, it is sad because some parents don't think the way you do. During some incidents, there have been a handful of children that I know aren't being cared right by their parents."

"That's saddening."

"Yeah, it is." The teacher sighed. She then glanced behind the driver and told him, "Oh, it's green."

The taxi driver nodded, turning back onto the road. He got back to work, driving back onto route to the teacher's desired destination. He thought their conversation had come to a close, until the teacher spoke up again.

"As much as it easy to be a nice parent; it is also easy to be a bad one." The teacher mused, as she gazed out the window with a wistful look.

"Every parent is different." He replied, "And like I said earlier, sometimes we have our bad days. We're not designed to be perfect human beings. We make mistakes."

"I don't _want_ to make a mistake. When I become a mother, I'll be an awful one."

The driver didn't like the sound of the lady's quivering voice. Was Mrs. Takaishi going to beginning to sob again? If anything, witnessing somebody cry never failed to make the driver feel immensely awkward. The lady was getting emotional again and the driver didn't know how to deal with it. She recalled the driver of his own wife when she went through her monthly cycles and was _impossible_ to speak to without his wife picking up a fight with him. Anger, the driver could deal with - but somebody tearing up? That was a different story.

"Don't you already look after enough children? I'm sure you're well suited to look after your own baby in the future as you are more prepared for it than anybody else because you've had the most experience with them."

"It's different," she disagreed. "I-oh, uh...never mind. This is my house."

The taxi driver clapped a hand over his mouth to hid his gaping mouth.

Mrs Takaishi's place was much _more_ than a house. The building looked like a mansion. He hadn't come to the assumption that the teacher lived in quite a luxurious home because from the brief time the driver had spent with her, he had noticed her worn out shoes and the plain clothing and non-designer clothing that the lady wore. The stitched that stuck out of her handbag had made him certain to believe that she did not hail from the rich and privileged.

The teacher caught the expression on the taxi driver's face and merely giggled. "It's a bit excessive, if you ask me."

"Well, I just didn't know that a Preschool teacher could earn _this_ much money." The driver shook his head for being unprofessional. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to be so blunt and open about it."

The lady laughed. "Don't worry. Even I get goosebumps when I see it. We only moved into it half a year ago after I got married. It still feels unfamiliar and surreal to me. I told my husband that I wanted something small…"

"If that's his description of small, I'd hate to find out how he interprets something big."

"I could have never afforded this place on my own." She laughed. "But then again, he earns more than me. He's an author. His recent mystery novel did well, which caused him to spontaneously purchase this house as my wedding present. Then, of course, he had to proclaim that the reason it was _this l_ arge was because he needed a basketball court and five bedrooms in case I were to bear _four_ children. And I don't even want four children! He always likes to exaggerate and go overboard, if you ask me."

The driver chuckled. "I can tell."

He remembered when he had three children, living in a cramped apartment. They all had slept in a line in the lounge because there wasn't any space. Luckily the taxi driver ended up getting a pay rise, his wife's cafe had become a success and his oldest son got a scholarship for music. If that hadn't been the case, his whole family would be still struggling to this day. Despite it all, the taxi driver would have never been able to afford _this_ type of home.

"He must have become really successful." The driver whistled, gazing at the dominating house.

"Trust me, he has." The teacher rolled her eyes. "But don't tell him I told you that. It will feed his ego and he sure has enough of it to last a lifetime."

She hurriedly paid him and pushed the driver's hand away, refusing to take back the tip she had given him. Hanging her her handbag over her shoulder, she stretched one of her legs out of the car, but hesitated just as she was about to leave the taxi. "Mister, thanks for waiting and being patient with me. You sure you don't want to come in for some tea?"

"I'm good." The taxi driver responded.

The teacher gave a short nod, carefully getting out of the car as if she was frightened to trip over. As she began to wander onto the path leading up to house, the taxi driver beamed when he saw the hint of a bump protruding out of the front of the teacher's dress.

"You'll be a great mother, Mrs. Takaishi."

She pivoted around to face him, eyes lighting up. Apparently his words of encouragement was something that she had needed to hear, as the lady returned the brightest smile that the taxi driver had never seen her wear. Albeit, there were tears that were streaming down her face. She bowed before turning around back on her heel, climbing the stairs and unlocking the front door.

He waited until the lady was safely inside her house before driving off.

.

* * *

 **(a/n)** Happy New Year! Thanks for all the feedback and encouragement for the previous chp, despite me never writing mxm!

This chp was a different take on Hikari. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks _Pied Piper_ for reviewing!

I'll reply to rest of the reviews later this evening & edit it too (because I'm _sure_ there are mistakes everywhere)

Next chapter: Yamato ;)


	6. Yamato: The Runaway Musician

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

yamato

 **t** he **r** unaway **m** usician

 _._

* * *

For the millionth time, the taxi stepped onto the brake.

" _Hurry up._ "

The taxi driver groaned. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, glaring at the same black van in front of him that he had been trailing behind for the past thirty minutes. To add to his vexation, multiple vehicles blocked the street and pedestrians threaded in and out through the space between the cars.

After almost running over a careless pedestrian, the taxi driver let out strangled sigh.

 _On. Off. On. Off. On. Off…_

He grumbled to himself, "Come on!"

The taxi driver's right foot was getting tired of changing his position from the brake to slightly touching the accelerator. He was over the day and wanted to go home to his family. Being stuck in the traffic jam had drained him, but he had promised his boss that he needed one to cater to one more passenger to make ends meet.

Craning two of his fingers inside the top of his shirt, he loosed up his collar, glowering at the cars in front of him, wishing they would vanish from his sight.

From years driving in the city, one would assume that the taxi driver was used to traffic and being stuck in congested areas, but as the years passed and the older he became, his patience tolerance gradually began to diminish.

This part of town, from all the experience he had as a taxi driver, had never been _this_ crowded.

He had often driven through the streets with much ease, as the block was within a quiet business district in Shinagawa. Asides from the tall skyscrapers and the outdated department store, there was nothing interesting located on the block. People had stopped going to the department store due the competition of newer buildings in the nearby areas.

When the taxi finally turned the corner, the taxi driver saw the main entrance of the department store. Women of all ages flocked around the glass sliding doors. Some were screaming hysterics, others had their phones out, prepared to take a snapshot, some pushed others to get in front of each other. There was no red carpet event...so _what_ were they lining up for? What had caused all this commotion?

The security guards shared the same bewildered feeling as the taxi driver, however they appeared haggard-looking as they formed a barrier, suppressing the deranged women from invading the department store.

Above all, the taxi driver had found a series of news channels parked illegally on the pavement. Video Jockeys were in the process of setting their cameras, and there was one newscaster who had already barged into the crowd, holding a microphone and reporting the fiasco.

 _Whatever_ the fiasco was…

The taxi driver rolled his eyes. He just wanted this slow, mundane torture to end. And just when it couldn't get any better, his bladder almost reached its maximum capacity. He didn't know if he could hold it any longer. Half an hour at most. Damn, he _really_ needed to go to the toilet.

Not one for using a GPS, the driver turned it on. Desperate times called for drastic measures. The driver didn't type in an address, but allowed the GPS to find the car's current location. After loading, the driver studied the map around the area. With his pointing finger, he traced it along the map, finding the quickest, alternate route to make a getaway. He knew he'd have no luck going through the main roads, so resorting to the one-way streets was the best option.

 _Yes!_

He nodded to himself. It would have to do if he wanted to get out of there alive…

Making a sharp turn, he drove down the narrow street. He let a sigh of relief as the throngs of people slowly dispersed and it became less difficult to drive through. He could finally breathe again.

"Ha! Take that!" He exclaimed to himself. "I'm not too old for my job after all!"

At a crossing, he allowed a mother pushing a pram to walk by. As he was about to continue, determined to get out of Shinagawa, his foot was on the verge of slipping off the accelerator when he heard a loud, savage thumping sound.

"LET ME IN!"

 _Thump, thump, thump_.

"PLEASE!"

Glimpsing to his left, the taxi driver was startled when he saw a middle-aged man in dark shades continue to knock onto the window. The stranger abruptly clapped his hands together, pleading for the taxi driver to unlock the door. He was frazzled, with his golden hair askew, face flushed and his skin shone with perspiration.

From first glance the taxi driver would have thought the man was some sort of fugitive or thief. The man was too well-dressed to be a gangster, from the expensive leather jacket to the labelled belt; the taxi driver confirmed to himself that the man had not inherited the tacky clothing style of the stereotypical mobster.

And then the taxi driver recognised him.

This man was a _celebrity_.

" _Please_." The stranger begged in distress.

Pitying the man, the taxi driver opened the door. Although the taxi driver did not know what type of celebrity the man was, he knew that the _least_ he could do was permit the man to get into his vehicle.

How could he _not_ fail to notice who the man was when his daughter gushingly claimed him to be her future husband? ...Especially when the man's face was plastered all over his daughter's walls. The taxi driver might have not liked the impact that this man had on his daughter, but in the end of the day this man, this celebrity, was in desperate need for a getaway.

"Where to-"

"Just _drive!_ " The man demanded in urgency.

The taxi driver arched an eyebrow, watching through the mirror as the celebrity sunk down into the seat. The celebrity was placing a hand over his face to disguise himself, evidently concerned of the possibility that somebody could see him in the vehicle.

When the car lurched forward, the driver gaped when he saw a flock of fangirls chase after the car. Pressing harder on the accelerator, the girls began to sprint.

The taxi driver told his passenger, "Hold on."

Feeling like he was in an action movie, the driver swerved around the corner. He shook of the fans running after the car and, to the driver's astonishment, he found another car tracing behind them. The driver leaned back on his seat, glancing at the celebrity with a frown.

"You must be really popular."

His passenger gave a dry laugh and admitted, "Right now I wish I wasn't, sir."

Ever since stumbling into the vehicle, the celebrity had a scowl present on his features. Now that his face had brightened up, the taxi driver could understand why many females found him appealing.

"So...young man," The taxi driver addressed once he ensured that nobody was stalking them, "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere." The passenger paused. "Well, obviously I'm lying. Just away from the fans. I might even seek refuge at the studio for a while. It's near Yoyogi Park, in between Harajuku and Shinjuku. If you head that direction, I'll tell you where to go from there."

"Don't you know the address?"

The celebrity shook his head. "No. I'm awful at remembering names. I just know how to navigate my way to places."

"That's even better." The taxi driver replied, "At least you _know_ where you are going."

The younger man chuckled. He took off his shades, rubbing his cobalt-blue eyes. Another tick for making the ladies fall for him, the taxi driver noted. No wonder his daughter fancied this celebrity so much.

"You've made my day." His passenger said, "Thanks for the ride. I didn't think you'd speed up and race down the streets. It's not every day I get driven by an expert, like yourself, to cause my persistent followers to lose track of us."

"No problem."

"I mean it. It's an honour that you allowed me into your taxi. You drive like a wild man, sir, and I mean this in a good way. It's refreshing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." The taxi driver grinned, feeling his ego inflate.

 _Perhaps he wasn't as rusty as he thought?_

Save for the aching back, the adrenaline from the goose chase made the taxi driver feel good. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest, jaw tight and his breathing had escalated. The driver hadn't been this excited about driving ever since, last year, he had to rush a man to a hospital because his wife was in labour.

The taxi driver started the conversation again. "My daughter is a fan of yours. Forgive me, but I don't know who you are. What's your actual occupation?"

Somehow the driver's words made the celebrity laugh even more.

"A musician. Lead singer and bassist to a rock band."

"So you scream a lot?" The taxi driver scrunched his nose at the thought. He was never fond of loud music that was prone to bursting eardrums. He preferred _enka_ ballads and easy-listening tunes.

The celebrity chuckled. "Not necessarily. My band performs slow songs too."

"That's... _interesting_. What do you call yourselves?"

Despite the taxi driver being well aware that he was not going to research into the young man's band, out of interest he still thought he should ask him anyway.

"We used to be called _The Teenage Wolves_ , but we recently changed it to _Knife of Day_ because we had to swap around with our main guitarist," the musician explained. "I just didn't think that the current band would become more famous than the previous."

"You've been doing this for a while?"

"Long enough. We formed the band way back when we were in middle school. Back then I would have said that it was my passion and talent, but right now...I guess you could say it is my profession." He stared longingly out the window. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had taken a different path."

"Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Not really." The musician shrugged. "I was always fascinated in engineering, but never thought of pursuing it."

The taxi driver prompted, "You could start? Maybe you need a career change. It's unquestionable that you have enough money for it."

"True." He smiled. "However, I don't want to leave my bandmates. Being a musician is my profession right now. Although I might not enjoy it as much as I used to, it's something I'm good at and it still makes me happy. Actually, it's not even about the music that we produce and the fame."

"Then what is it?"

"My friends. The environment I work in. How often do you get to say that you get to see your best friends every day?"

"Good point." The taxi driver agreed.

It made him wonder how his old best friend back in Osaka was doing. They hadn't kept in contact for years because they had been too preoccupied with their families and were cities apart.

The taxi driver felt a tap on his shoulder. The musician was leaning in and was pointing his finger to the left. The driver followed the musician's cue. The musician then instructed. "Yes. That's it. From here, you need to keep going down this road for another three minutes."

"Your studio is far from Shinagawa." The taxi driver commented. "What were you doing there anyway? Nobody visits that department store anymore…"

"Which was why I chose the place." The musician let out a deep sigh. "Inside the department store there's a cinema that not many people know of. I went to watch a movie by myself and unfortunately, as you can see, my plan backfired. I was spotted"

The taxi driver questioned, "But why go to the cinemas by yourself? How can you enjoy it?"

The thought of going to watch a movie on his own baffled the driver. He had never considered forking out money and sitting there, silently by himself, eating popcorn. Even if his wife didn't like the movie that he wanted to see, the taxi driver always made sure to take her along (after bribing her with chocolates) because he hated being by himself.

"Sometimes it's nice to have your own space. Not everybody likes being by themselves, but I enjoy it once in awhile."

"Was the movie at least good? What did you watch?"

" _Logan_. It's a very fitting movie for me, since he's my favourite X-Man character. I related to him a lot as a kid, so I really wanted to see it because he's like my superhero." The musician chuckled. "I only got into the first quarter of the film until camera flashes blinded my vision. Guess I might have to resort to watching it when it comes out on DVD or Netflix..."

For the taxi driver, it was surreal that he was driving a celebrity. But, the more the driver spoke to him, the more he realised that there was nothing too special about the musician either. Sure, he was handsome and was possibly talented to some extent (he _had_ to be considering his huge following), but when it came down to it...this musician, this _man,_ was a person.

He was talking fanatically about X-Men, for goodness sake!

Listening to final instruction, the taxi slid into a vacant angled-car park spot.

The taxi driver took the debit card from his passenger, tapping it against the electronic payment device for the exact fee. After processing the payment, the taxi driver handed it back.

"Have a good day, young man."

However, the man didn't respond. In fact, the musician's head was down, eyebrows furrowed as he used a black marker to scribe over something on his lap. The driver couldn't query what the man was doing because by the time he was about to speak up, the musician was handing something for him to take.

The driver took the plastic square object from his passenger. He studied it and smiled. "Thanks, young man. She'll greatly appreciate it."

"It'll make up for you saving me, sir! Thanks again!"

As the passenger strode off, the taxi driver observed the musician's gait and smirked. Even his gait radiated coolness and poise. The taxi driver now finally understood why girls swooned over him. The musician was normal, but he was also untouchable. The taxi driver glanced at the CD in his hand.

Yes, the musician was _definitely_ untouchable after the stunt he had just pulled off.

.

 _To the taxi driver's well-esteemed and beautiful daughter,_

 _._

 _You look after your father. He is a great man._

 _And since I owe him one, I thought I'd give you this CD._

 _Also, I'd like you to present this CD to the band's next concert in Tokyo_

 _and I'll give you two free VIP and backstage passes._

 _Look forward to seeing you soon,_

 _._

 _Yamato Ishida_

 _._

So the young man's name was ' _Yamato Ishida_ ', huh? He laughed in amusement.

The taxi driver would make sure to remember his name; even if he was not into loud, screaming music.

Nevertheless, Yamato's name would definitely been engrained into his mind because the taxi driver would never forget that one day he acted like a stunt driver in a movie.

Hopefully the traffic cameras hadn't caught the taxi driver speeding on camera; because then he'd _surely_ be fired.

He smiled to himself. Though...it had been well worth the risk.  
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* * *

 **(a/n)** And here's another to add to the mix ;) Four more one-shots to go! Will edit this later. xox

Next chapter: Iori & Taichi


	7. Iori & Taichi: Say 'No' To Businessmen

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

iori & taichi

 **s** ay **n** o **t** o **b** usinessmen

 _._

* * *

Despite it being a weeknight, the eateries stationed around the Shinagawa district were swarming with business folk.

It was peak season for the taxis that were driving around the area, as multiple men garbed in ties and plain suits attempted to drunkenly hail them over.

Luckily, for the taxi driver, he had spotted a rather sensible young man at the taxi stand. There was no sign of him being part of an crazy, rowdy group of businessmen either. As the taxi driver slowed his car to meet the man on the curb, he got a better look at the person.

If the man hadn't been wearing a business suit, the taxi driver would have guessed that he was still in high school. The man was rather youthful looking with eyes big and innocent, brown hair gelled perfectly to the right side of his head, face neatly shaved, and a blemish and wrinkle-free complexion. In general, the man was properly groomed, but it still made the driver wary that he looked too young to dress the way he did. The taxi driver presumed that the young man was possibly a graduate or new to the working industry.

The taxi driver pushed a lever and, automatically, the passenger door opened. "Where to, young man?"

"Oh...oh! Bear with me for a sec," the man replied. He placed his briefcase onto the flooring of the taxi before gesturing for the driver to wait. "I need to get my senpai."

Just as the taxi driver was going to ask how long it would take, and how far his senpai was, the young man was already scampering off.

Five minutes ticked by.

Then ten.

If the young man hadn't left his briefcase in the vehicle, the taxi driver would have driven off my now and found himself another customer. Regardless, the driver had no choice _but_ to wait for his customer.

When the time shied away from hitting half an hour later, the taxi driver heard bellowing.

"I LOVE YOU IORI!"

"Yagami-senpai! Could you lower your voice?" A timid voice had followed next.

The young man was returning with his senpai. He was holding his arm around his neck and he struggled to carry the older man's weight on his own. The older man was half-walking and half-dragging his feet as he supported himself onto his kouhai.

Yagami-senpai was the polar opposite, completely haggard and unkempt in contrast to his well-groomed junior. His hair was spiking up in several directions, not gelled like his junior's hairdo. Circling his head, and bowed, was a striped green and white tie. His jacket was back-to-front, white shirt half unbuttoned and - to top it all off - the man's face was burning red from, evidently, a high intake of alcohol.

"Darn it," the taxi driver cursed under his breath. And here the taxi driver thought he could get away without driving a drunk businessman. Another taxi, sporting a fellow colleague from the same company, sent him a sympathetic look as it drove past.

The young man assisted his senpai into the car. However, the senpai was even making this task difficult as he was taking his shoes off.

"Yagami, senpai," the younger man pleaded. "Keep your shoes on."

As soon as the businessmen had entered the car, the taxi driver's senses was filled with the scent of hard liquor. He cursed to himself again.

His senpai declared, "But Iori-kun! We're entering a house! Wouldn't it be rude _not_ to?"

"We're in a taxi."

"Oh, are we?" The older man chuckled. "No wonder everything's spinning!"

 _Heaven's forbid…_

Without a second thought, the taxi driver pressed on the glove compartment and grabbed a spare paper bag, tossing it behind the seat. The taxi driver clenched the steering wheel. He hadn't even started driving an already the man's equilibrium was unstable. He begged to himself, he _hoped_ that the man wouldn't vomit in his car.

"Ouch!" The man exclaimed, clutching his forehead. "Iori-kun! He threw something at me... _who_ is he?"

"The person who will take us home. Somebody you should be _extremely_ thankful for." Iori threw the taxi driver an apologetic look as he buckled the seatbelt over his senpai's hips. "Odaiba please, sir."

These men weren't ordinary businessmen if they were residing in Odaiba. The man-made island by Tokyo Bay was quite expensive to live in. The taxi driver rarely drove to that location, and the last time he had been there was during father's day to see the _Toyota Megaweb Showcase_ with his family. Considering driving was his profession, it was only natural that the taxi driver had developed an interest for cars over the years.

The taxi driver's foot stepped off the break, pressing onto the accelerator. He made sure not to drive too fast because he didn't want to test the drunken man's nausea. He crossed his fingers, hoping that the man would fall asleep. It was easier caring for sleeping drunks than unpredictable, babbling loud, wild ones.

Unfortunately, the silence was short lived when the taxi driver watched a hand flap out from behind him, switching on the radio without his permission.

"Yagami-senpai!" Iori groaned.

"Why'd you take me home?" Yagami screamed. "I told you that tonight calls for celebration!"

The taxi driver felt the vehicle shake as the man began to dance on his seat, moving to the beat of the music. Enough that his passenger had turned on the radio, but he had also somehow put the volume on at full blast. The taxi driver swore that he could feel his eardrums exploding.

"Customer or no customer of mine, this is too loud!" The taxi driver barked, impatiently turning the volume down to a normal, tolerable level.

"Taxi driver, sir! You're no fun!" The drunken man replied.

"No," the taxi driver said then corrected, "I'm too old for this. Settle down, or I'll have to pass you a different taxi."

"I'm not paying you then!"

"Yagami-senpai!"

 _Take a deep breath. In. And Out. Remember those yoga exercises your wife has been doing? They're to calm you down during times of emergency. Take a deep breath in. Hold it. And out. In. And Out. In and-_

"I HAVE A PEN!"

…

 _Oh no_

Just when the taxi driver had thought the man would stop yelling and behaving like a baboon, the PPAP song played. It wasn't as loud as the other song, but it was still decipherable. And even though the volume was lower, it was the businessman's large voice that boomed over the song as he screamed out the lyrics with utmost vigour.

From the rearview mirror, the taxi driver caught the junior shaking his head to himself. It was good to know that at least he wasn't the only one suffering from this drive.

"URGH!" He howled, "PINEAPPLE PEN!"

The taxi turned off the radio, but Yagami kept singing on. He then ended up making his own rendition of the song, fused with broken English and Japanese and began to sing out on top of his lungs in a tone-deaf fashion, " _This is a pen! This is a apple. But I am a ringo. Ringo desu. I am a pen. Kore wa pen desu. My namae is Pen! Pen-chan desu yo._ _Yo-yo yo...yeahhhh_!"

Iori clamped a hand over Yagami's mouth before the latter could sing yet another verse to the contorted, made-up song. Yagami struggled for a bit, then stopped. He was smirking and giggling in a high-pitched tone, like a teenage girl did around her crush. The cheeky bastard.

Thankfully, Yagami toned it down, resorting to humming a tune to himself. The taxi driver was sure he heard it somewhere. It must have been a SMAP song from how poppy it sounded. The tie was falling over Yagami's face, and instead of adjusting, the businessman began to blow at it.

"Why won't it stop blocking my sight, Iori-kun?"

Iori-kun obediently took off the tie, and zipped it into his senpai's briefcase.

The taxi driver wondered how the junior could cope with Yagami on a daily basis. How did Iori manage to still be this patient? Then again, perhaps he wasn't _that_ bad when he wasn't drunk. He must be a good businessman if Iori continued to endure his senpai's absurdity and, it wasn't like the taxi driver could forget that the businessman lived in Odaiba.

Talking about Odaiba, they were just about to merge onto Rainbow Bridge…

"Isn't it dazzling?" Iori said, smiling.

Rainbow Bridge was definitely one of the favourite bridges that the taxi driver enjoyed passing by. The view was always a delight. Upon the bridge, it was a spectacular view of Odaiba. The city lights reflected onto Tokyo Bay and it was always therapeutic to drive on.

The taxi driver agreed. "Yes. It's quite stunning."

"We stopped it, you know..." Iori said, quietly.

"Stopped what?" Now that the younger man had started the conversation, the topic wasn't something that the taxi driver could easily divert from.

"They wanted to stop the coloured lights on Rainbow Bridge. Said it was a distraction and that many people had accidents because of it."

"Is it true, young man?" The taxi driver gawked. How could somebody want to cease the lights on Rainbow Bridge? The thought was repulsive! "There are accidents all over the place, and they're especially more prominent in the Shibuya district...and they went to the extent of get rid of the lights on the bridge?"

"We fought for it. Yagami-senpai is actually the head of the Odaiba council. We only found out today that we...were successful," Iori grinned. He waved his hand across across the window, as they continued to drive on the bridge. "We saved it."

"That you did."

The taxi driver glanced at Yagami in a different light. He was smiling that although the case was so small, the Rainbow Bridge made quite an impact to the people in Tokyo - not just the Odaiba precinct. This one man thought it was worth fighting far, and the result was plausible.

After all, the taxi driver did recall the business man saying to his junior that it was a night worth celebrating. And, perhaps, it was. He _deserved_ to be drunk. It was something that the taxi driver would have never thought he'd find himself admit, considering he had driven his fair share of drunken passengers. However, this case was different. This man was different.

As if Odiaba councilman was listening to the taxi driver's thoughts, he wounded down the window and stretched an arm out. The cool breeze poured into the vehicle. Yagami chuckled, savouring the feeling of having the air brush against his arm.

"I love Odaiba."

"We already know that." Iori simpered. "Of course you do."

And then Yagami did the unbelievable. The driver gaped as he witnessed his passenger reposition himself, sliding down on the seat and attempting to kick his feet out of the window. Before he could do this action, the younger man had already receipted his actions and was tackling his senpai down.

"But the air feels so good, Iori-kun!"

The younger man cried out, "Not if you die in the process!"

If they hadn't been driving, and on a bridge, the taxi driver would have found it amusing. However, he did value his life and an accident on the Rainbow Bridge would not look good on his file. Additionally, he was certain it _also_ wouldn't look good on Iori or Yagami's file too considering they had been fighting _for_ the lights on Rainbow Bridge and that it did _not_ cause accidents.

Yagami seemed to use most of his energy when they arrived on the other side of the bridge. His eyes were drooping and it looked like he was about to fall asleep. On the other hand, the younger man's eyes were wide awake.

"His place is near Fuji TV, sir."

The taxi driver nodded at his instructions, taking a turn to the right.

"You really value your drunk senior to be keeping an eye out on him in this state." The yellow light glowed, so the taxi driver stepped on the brake.

Iori gave a tiny smile. "Yes. He's done so much for me. This was the best way to repay him."

"You're young for a lawyer too."

"I was lucky."

"No. You would have worked hard." The taxi driver said. "There's no such thing as luck in the law. Although people may get in due to connections, your grades during university would have been exceptional...and look what you've accomplished?"

The young man humbly replied, "It's not that a big of a deal."

"To you, it may not be. But to many...it is." Lights turning green, the taxi driver stirred the wheel. "Look at Yagami-san. He's proud of what you did for him. He might now show it, but he's enthralled that you helped him on the case."

"It's little compared to what he's done for me."

The taxi driver didn't know whether it was best to ask him what exactly the older businessman had done for him, but he didn't need to because Iori kept speaking. "I was bullied when I was a kid. He...he-Taichi was the only one who stuck up for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah." The young lawyer smiled.

"He's a great man." The taxi driver complimented the sleeping passenger.

His heart felt warm. Every now and again, the taxi driver felt touched by stories his customers shared with him. And this...it would have to be on one of his top favourite stories that he'd always retell his wife (much to her irritation) and family friends. It hit home because when the taxi driver was new to Tokyo, he remembered how the staff in his company often bullied and made fun of him for his strong, Kansai accent. Bullying could happen no matter what age you were, and it was lucky that the young man had Yagami to defend him.

It made perfect sense why the young lawyer was protective of his senpai.

When they made a stop, Iori had to shake Yagami up. Iori was about to pay the taxi driver, but for once, the taxi driver refused to take the fee.

"But sir-"

"I'd rather you not," the driver said. "If my wife finds out that I charged the men who saved the lights on Rainbow Bridge she'd have my head."

"Why?" Yagami questioned, groggily, the most sober the driver had seen of the man.

"I proposed to her on the Ferris Wheel. When we reached its peak, she was so enthralled at the different coloured lights on the bridge, that she hadn't realised I had dropped down to kneel." The taxi driver laughed at the memory. "Like I said before, what the both of you have done is beyond commendable."

Iori beamed and Yagami gave a weak smile. The taxi driver simpered as he watched Iori help his senpai out of the car. He was about to drive off, but noticed the older man sprint off for the nearest garbage can, vomiting severely into it.

The taxi saw Iori scratch the back of his head, and motioned to the taxi driver that they were find, that the he could handle his senpai.

Chuckling, the taxi driver drove off. He wished that the businessman wouldn't wake up to a bad hangover the next morning.

.

* * *

 **(a/n)** This turned out being more heartfelt than I expected it to be. I thought it would just be about intoxicated businessmen but, alas, I was wrong. I decided to write about these two (Iori  & Taichi) because I've never really explored the pair converse properly for a long period. Despite Taichi being drunk for er...all of it, I just thought it would be fun to touch on their interesting relationship.

Hope you've enjoyed it ;)

Next chapter: Mimi


	8. Mimi: Women Who Talk A Lot

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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.

 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

mimi

 **w** omen **w** ho **t** alk **a** **l** ot

 _._

* * *

The taxi driver tried not look at her direction.

She was hyperactivity thrashing her arms around to get him to stare at her, but he pretended not see. He didn't _want_ to look at her.

The lady was setting a bad example and not abiding by the rules. Didn't she see the sign on the side of the street? Was she a foreigner? Most department stores in Tokyo had a designated strip for taxis. Couldn't she see the rank assigned for taxis? It was right in front of her!

He huffed. The taxi driver wasn't going to risk illegally parking on the side of the road just for her. He didn't want to cop a fine from the police.

As the taxi driver was about to accelerate off, he cursed when the red light gleamed.

Talk about bad luck. The taxi driver swore that he was getting too much of it lately. He hadn't had a day pass by without having the odd customer. He had thought he survived today, but when the woman started hammering on his window, the taxi driver knew that his streak of lunatics was far from over. The red light had given the lady the leverage of scooting over to his car and pleading for him to let her in.

Sighing, the taxi driver rolled down the automatic window. "Yes?"

"Are you free?"

The woman already knew that his taxi was vacant. She stuck her head inside the taxi, observing that nobody occupied any of the seats.

Now that the taxi driver had no valid excuse, he said, "I am."

"Great! I'll get my things-"

"No." The taxi driver frowned. "You need to line up like the others. See? The taxi rank over there. You need to line up behind the other customers. I can't randomly pick you up from an illegal place. Miss, you're not even meant to be on the road. This isn't exactly pedestrian territory."

"I know!" The lady complained. "But I'm tired. My body's aching. I've been shopping all day and I wanted to ask a quick question anyway. I didn't want to wait in line only to be declined a ride because then I'd be waiting for nothing! I just want to know if you can take me there because if you can't I'll have to arrange another form of transport-"

The taxi driver was sweating bullets as he noticed the adjacent crossing traffic lights had turned amber. Any minute the lights would turn green, and he would get honking from the vehicles behind him if he didn't move. The lady really need to get off the street!

"Where do you need to go?" He interrupted her before she could ramble on even more.

Luckily, she noted the urgency in the taxi driver's voice and briskly jumped straight to the point. "Yokohama, sir."

 _Yokohama?_

The taxi driver sat up from his slouched position, suddenly intrigued. On a rare occasion people wished to go to Yokohama. It was further out the city, approximately forty minutes away, and was usually better accessed via the JR train line. Paying a taxi was not worth it. The taxi driver would often be kind enough to tell potential customers that it was cheaper taking the train instead of getting a ride from him.

However, there was desperation in the woman's tone. She looked like she really needed to get to Yokohama soon as soon as possible; especially when she had stepped onto the road to get his attention.

Yokohama was a feasible and attractive location to go to, partly because it was where the taxi driver resided with his family.

The taxi driver was clocking off in half an hour and the thought of going to Yokohama would save his own traveling time of getting home that day. He would possibly get home earlier than expected. It would be a nice change to surprise his wife and make it to dinner on time. He knew his wife would be beyond enthralled to have the whole family sitting together at the dining table for once.

He gave the woman a sideway glance.

 _Besides, she looks wealthy enough._ The taxi driver thought to himself.

The taxi driver was well aware that the expense of a taxi fare in contrast to the train cost would be more pricey, but it didn't seem like the woman was penniless.

Her leather handbag, designer shoes, and her pale grey dress was enough evidence to display her financial status. Additionally, the woman had thick, long wavy dyed brown hair that was brushed and cared for to perfection. It would have cost the woman a lot of money to maintain her hair. The taxi driver knew this because he always felt sick whenever his wife would go to the hair salon once a month...and his wife's hair was _short!_

The taxi driver debated again with himself. It wasn't often he broke the rules, or even took passengers who illegally would walk onto the street. But, considering it would be a one off, and he was eagerly ready to go home, he gave a short nod.

"I'll take you, but you need to go back to the corner where _Mos Burger_ is. It's not a taxi rank, but I'll be allowed to park there for five minutes."

Surprisingly, the woman bowed. "Thanks!"

A car honked behind him at the same time. Before he rolled up the window again, the taxi driver reminded, " _Mos Burger._ "

Without saying anything else, he sped off. The woman had better kept his word. He was looking forward to going home early, and he was already giving the woman leniency despite her not obeying the rules.

The taxi driver did a circle around the block and returned to park his car in front of the fast-food joint he had instructed the woman to meet him at.

Instead of a woman being there, he noticed five shopping bags. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the time. As he saw the clock digits, from the side-view mirror the taxi driver noticed the woman appear in his line of vision.

She was carrying another four bags!

The woman raised her eyebrows and motioned for the taxi driver to open the trunk.

Turning off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt, the driver stepped out of the taxi and assisted the woman with placing the bags into the trunk. It was no wonder the woman hadn't wanted to take the train. She had bought _way_ too much.

Scratch that. She wasn't financially well off; the woman was _rich._

The taxi driver wasn't a shopaholic, but even he could recognise that the shopping bags were a compilation of expensive brands.

After barely fitting them into the trunk, the taxi driver was about to close it when she exclaimed. "I'll be back. There's more, sir. Wait a minute!"

 _More?_

The taxi driver didn't need to look at his own reflection to see that his eyes were probably as wide as saucers now. How could the woman have _more_ things? How much had she spent? Her bank account must be loaded to the brim if she could afford all of this!

What was meant to be a minute felt like hours. The taxi driver frowned. Perhaps he wouldn't get home earlier at this rate…

When he was about to make a dash for the closest convenient store to grab a bottle of green tea, the taxi driver heard a tap on his window.

He glanced up and noted his customer point at the back of the vehicle, indicating for the trunk to be open again.

The taxi driver got out of the vehicle and, to his astonishment, found himself facing a salesmen from one of the stores. The salesman was holding a rather large thin looking box, eyes begging for assistance as the woman hadn't been helping her at all, considering her hands were also full with even _more_ shopping bags.

Immediately, the taxi driver opened the back passenger door instead, helping the salesman diligently slide in the thin cardboard box. There was no way in hell the box would fit in the boot without the item getting damaged in the process.

However, it didn't end there.

An elder lady dressed in a floral apron had brought two pots of bamboo plants, positioning it beside the taxi door.

The taxi driver gawked. When would this nonsense end?

His customer smiled at him. "Do you reckon it will fit in the boot?"

"No. The bamboo will die. We'll have to sit it in the back passenger seat along with that box." The taxi driver manoeuvred the pots inside the vehicle, ensuring that the plants would not move when they were in transit.

He sat back on the driver's seat, rubbing his lower back. rubbing his aching back. The taxi driver now knew why the woman had been considering using another form of transport.

"Thank you _so_ much." The woman expressed her gratitude.

The taxi driver nodded. She did owe him. He wasn't even going to bother and tell her a 'It's fine' because he had gone out of his way to strain his back for her by stuffing her shopping bags into his taxi like Tetris blocks.

Never mind having dinner with the family because as soon as he'd get home, the taxi driver wanted to soak his body inside a steaming bathtub of hot water. Only then he knew he'd be able to relieve his exacerbated back pain. Unfortunately, he had run out of the heat packs that a random doctor had supplied him previously. The heat packs had worked like magic. It was a shame he didn't have any more pads to stick onto his lower back to reduce the pain from his achy back.

His passenger gave him her details.

Coincidentally the woman happened to leave a block from his own apartment. Between tossing convenience and regret, whether it was a good idea he had taken the woman on board his taxi, he felt better knowing that she lived near him.

That meant...the woman couldn't be possibly _that_ wealthy.

His block, and its surrounding area, didn't comprise of very expensive properties. If anything, it was below the average rent.

Then again, the taxi driver knew he was a part of a different generation. The woman might not earn a lot of money, but she would spent her wage on various materialistic things. Sometimes the taxi driver worried about his own daughter going down that path. Already, she was asking him money for expensive make-up that was the same, or equal amount, to a whole day's worth of food.

When the taxi driver hit the highway, the woman began to talk up, "I'm really thankful you're doing this for me."

"And to think I was going suggest that you to take the train." He veered left.

Even stirring the car was becoming a task within itself. he accumulated weight from his passenger's shopping bags impacted his driving since the car slightly dipped downwards now.

"If you weren't going to drive me, I was going to wait for my partner to pick me up. But that would have meant I'd have to wait three hours." She sighed. "He's always working over-time."

"Aren't we all?" The taxi driver said, sombrely. He often would pick up extra shifts to add more money to his next pay check. "Though, I have to say miss, you've bought quite a lot! It's almost as if you've bought the whole store."

The woman giggled. "Yes. I may have went overboard…"

"If you don't mind me asking, but what _exactly_ did you buy? Are they all for you?"

"Ha ha! Oh, Goodness!" The woman denied, "They're _not_ all for me!"

"Then who are they for?"

That was the question that sent the taxi driver to his doom. Perhaps the woman had _wanted_ him to ask her because as soon as he had asked her the question, she began speaking until her voice went raspy.

"...plant is for my best friend. She's moved apartments so I wanted to give her some plants because she love plants, you see. Her name's Sora and Sora has always been talking about wanting bamboo plants since I've known her, so it's the perfect housewarming gift...don't you think? Oh, but maybe I should have gotten her a new sewing machine. She's always sewing. She's doing well with her business. Her fashion range is really good and…"

The next time the taxi driver listened to her talk, she was then talking about how she bought new equipment for her own kitchen.

"...and in the purple bag is a mixer! I needed an updated version, and it beats _way_ faster than my old one. I had the saleswoman demonstrate it to me and I was amazed! It'll save me even more time whenever I bake things. I love baking on the side. Do you know how cathartic baking is-"

 _Do you know how cathartic it will be when I drop you off?_

The taxi driver wasn't that mean to say it out loud, but how he _wished_ he could. They had only been driving for twenty minutes and, already, the woman's voice was irritating him. As well as a bath, he'd probably need to take some paracetamol and aspirin to eradicate the impending migraine coming on from the woman's never-ending chattering. All the taxi driver wanted was silence. He was going crazy listening to her.

Despite his passenger's constant rambling, from the words she would speak...he now knew that he hadn't given her the benefit of the doubt. This woman was not as selfish as he had initially thought.

All the purchases she had bought, asides from the new mixer, were for other people. She claimed they were all Christmas presents. Although the taxi driver knew it was August, he didn't want to query why the woman had bought the presents early, as it would create another topic of conversation for the woman to yap about.

"-new television is a present for my boyfriend. We've been using this small computer-sized monitor screen for years. I think he'll like it because he can watch his soccer games on a big screen now. I felt bad that he'd have to go the local Sports Bar to watch the game. He really loves soccer. When he was younger he wanted to play soccer professionally. He almost got scouted too-"

 _Whoa_ , the woman sure liked to talk a lot. The whole trip to Yokohama had been her speaking, a one-sided conversation. Nevertheless, from that time he spent with her, the taxi driver figured how much the woman actually cared about her friends and the people involved in her life. In that one massive shopping spree day, each gift she had bought for her family member or friend had a story behind it, and how it was relevant to each individual.

After what felt like decades, the taxi driver pulled up at his passenger's house. He was tempted to dump all her belongings onto the sidewalk and leave, but out of his good nature, he assisted her unloading the bags and taking it up to her apartment.

"Thank you so much!" She cheerfully yelled out in gratitude for the millionth time. The woman had paid her sum, and even had added a small packet of strawberry gummy bears next to the yen. She waved at him, seeing him off.

The taxi driver reversed out and drove back onto the street. He chuckled to himself. Even though she liked to talk a lot, he couldn't help but find her personality rather cute. If the taxi driver was younger, he would have fallen for the woman.

 _Why?_

Because she reminded him of his wife.

.

* * *

 **(a/n)** A fun chapter to write. Hope you enjoyed Mimi's one-shot!

Next up: Koushiro

Yamora - thanks for reading & reviewing the previous chp (i, _too_ , am lazy to go to your profile to reply) haha xD


	9. Koushiro: Experience is Prodigious

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

koushiro

 **e** xperience **i** s **p** rodigious

 _._

* * *

"Ginza Convention Centre."

The customer hadn't even spared a glance at the taxi driver when he had slithered onto the back seat of the vehicle. Resting a laptop in his hand, the passenger had robotically buckled up and started typing, unblinkingly transfixed in his own work.

"I don't have Wi-Fi," the taxi driver bluntly said before his customer dared to ask him for the password.

Eyes still focused on the screen, the passenger replied. "There's no need for it. I have pocket Wi-Fi."

"I see."

For the taxi driver, the passenger this time appeared to be a serious, dedicated businessman. He was styled up in a sharp suit, a white business shirt with all of the buttons done up to the collar, and striped grey and white tie that was positioned in symmetrical precision. On the other hand, the man's bronze coloured hair was rather disheveled and unkempt, appearing as if he had forgotten to push a comb through his hair.

The whole state of the man looked exhausted. Prior to the taxi driver picking up the passenger from Shinagawa, he had noted the dark bags smudging under the younger man's eyes.

There were various times that the taxi driver had dealt with unsociable, technology-immersed customers like the current passenger he was driving. The taxi driver often worried about the current generation being too reliant on technology.

He often fought with his own son about cutting off the internet because he was always gaming until the early hours of the morning. As for his daughter, she was always grasping and fiddling with her cellphone, barely lifting her eyelashes to talk to him whenever they were in the same room. They were the repetitive and ongoing arguments in his household that happened on a weekly basis.

With that being taken into account, the taxi driver felt rather irritated seeing that his passenger's eyes were glued to the screen. And, to think, that it would be another half an hour until they would reach the destination.

It was probably quicker if his passenger had taken the train, but seeing how the younger man couldn't tear his eyes from the screen...it was clear that he preferred to be left alone and not disturbed by anybody.

The taxi driver frowned, gazing at the lines of cars in front of them. He hated it when it was peak hour. The traffic was hideous.

At the next street, the taxi driver turned left. The taxi driver knew it was better than being on the main roads, especially during the busy time. He'd cut through traffic. That was the best option than being behind a listless amount of cars, traveling one inch per hour. Besides, the taxi driver knew the city like the back of his hand.

After minutes of straying off the usual route, a beeping sound progressively started to get louder.

Since the lights had transited to red, the taxi driver glanced behind his seat. "Is that your alarm clock, sir?"

" _Oh_." His passenger must have been so immersed with typing that he hadn't noticed the continuous beeping sound. "My GPS is telling me that we're taking the wrong route."

" _What_?" The taxi driver scowled, rather insulted.

"According to my calculations _and_ the GPS installed in my laptop, we'll get to the Centre faster if we take route 1."

"It'll take longer." The taxi driver stubbornly protested.

The taxi driver wasn't the type to easily get offended, but the customer had been irking him ever since he had stepped foot into the car. Who was this young man to tell him where to drive? He had been coasting down the city for years. He knew the ins and outs of the city. The shortcuts, the longer routes, the construction works, the tolls. The taxi driver did _not_ need a GPS to take him to popular locations.

"Well, it's factual. It's clearly shown here on my computer." The man said in a calm voice. For the first time, the taxi driver saw his passenger lift up his head to stare at him through the rear view mirror. "Do you want me to show it to you?"

"Technology isn't always correct." The taxi driver grunted.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I _must_ get to this meeting on time. I have this presentation that I need to complete before it starts. I estimate if we go through the route shown on my GPS, we'll get there in thirty-five minutes and twenty-two seconds, including traffic."

The taxi driver scoffed. "I know a better way. I'll get there in twenty-seven minutes."

"Are you confident in this? Or are you merely hypothesising?" The passenger didn't seem convinced by the older man's experience.

"I don't 'hypothesise' _,"_ The driver breathed out. "I _know._ "

The man suggested, "Then can we attempt my approach first before we concede to your method?"

The taxi driver snorted, but consented to his customer's wishes. Minutes later, the taxi driver followed the younger man's instructions and - as surmised - the vehicle had been relocated to the main road and, of course, caught up in traffic. And, to add to the passenger's dilemma, the traffic was slower _because_ of a car accident _and_ construction work happening further up the road.

"Can we try my route now?" The taxi driver said, smiling in triumph at his passenger.

" _But_ -"

"Son, I've been driving since you were in your diapers. Trust me. I've got this."

The man was reluctant, but he slowly nodded. "If there's no other choice, then yes...let's stick to your method."

Finally please to be back in his element, the taxi driver lowered his foot on the accelerator and soon, they were threading in and out of the Tokyo traffic. There were less traffic lights to stop at, and during the time that the man spend typing, he'd glimpse out the window and find that they were nearing his destination quicker than he had expected.

"Perhaps I may have been wrong," The passenger admitted to the taxi driver's utmost satisfaction.

"You have a lot to learn, sir." The taxi driver didn't even know what had come over him either. He'd be fired on the spot if his boss had witnessed how he was conversing to the passenger.

"Which makes life quite prodigious, if I don't say so myself."

The taxi driver blinked, bemused by the man's comment. He caught his passenger's dark brown laughing eyes in the mirror. The taxi driver didn't know why it was amusing. Although the man wasn't laughing out loud, the expression on his passenger's face was a clear giveaway that he was laughing inside.

"What's funny?"

"That driving is your expertise, and I judged you when I shouldn't have."

" _Alright_ …"

He gripped the steering wheel, not knowing how to respond to his passenger. He had assumed that the man wouldn't admit to being wrong. And, because the passenger did admit that he was wrong, the taxi driver felt quite ridiculous since he had been acting rather immature and foolish. Was he the younger one here, or his customer?

The man rattled on, "Additionally, you taught me something new. It was rash of me _not_ to take into account the multiple, varying factors that can increase the duration time of getting from Point A to Point B. Who could have guessed a car accident, or construction work? But you...you knew a solution. You knew a way around it. You're very talented, sir."

"Thanks."

And the taxi driver was _truly_ thankful. His heart felt heavy. If the passenger spoke more, there was a possibility that the taxi driver's ego would burst. It had been a while somebody had given him positive feedback and compliments about how he went about his job.

As promised, the taxi driver had parked next to the Ginza Convention Centre earlier than the passenger's calculated time. If anything, they had got to the Centre earlier than even the taxi driver had anticipated.

"I'm twelve minutes early." His passenger was gaping. As he closed his laptop and snatched up his briefcase, he mumbled to himself, "I even have time to buy some cold, oolong tea!"

The passenger hurried out of the car, that the taxi driver had to roll down his window and yell out. "You need to pay!"

"Oh, _oh!_ " The man sheepishly realised his mistake, jogging back to the car. "Credit card is fine?"

The taxi driver nodded, taking the card from the passenger. He pushed in the amount then swiped the card.

In the process, his customer leaned in and asked, "Can I have your business card?"

"What for?" The taxi driver arched an eyebrow, but opened up the glove compartment, picking up the first card from the stack and handing it to the passenger.

"You drove exceptionally well. I might contact you if in the future if I'm in a desperate situation. And I know there's this upcoming conference I want to go to next week-" The man paused and scratched the back of his head. "Well, unless you're against it…"

"No. It's fine. " The taxi driver chuckled. Although the two of them had started on the wrong note, he found the younger man's presence amusing now. Besides, it was pleasant driving the same customers around Tokyo.

Once the receipt printed out, the taxi driver returned the credit card back to his passenger. Since his new customer had his name, the taxi driver made sure to catch the name on the credit card, which read _Koushiro Izumi_.

"Koushiro-san, thank _you_."

The man gave a kind smile, bowing ever so slightly in gratitude.

As the taxi driver watched the man leave, he was suspicious when Koushiro walked past the Ginza Convention Centre. It _clearly_ was the convention centre. How could his passenger miss it? The detail was apparent, and the sign was evident and-

The taxi driver was already out of the car. He sprinted after his passenger, feet pattering against the granite footpath, but came to a halt when he saw the passenger slip into the main entrance of the building next to the Convention Centre.

Perhaps his passenger had told him to take him to the convention centre because it was easier to locate, and was right next to his work?

The taxi driver craned his neck, gazing up at the tall skyscraper. In maroon lettering, he squinted at the name.

 _Izumi Towers?_

Gawking, the taxi driver heavily breathed out and took a step back. The name rang a bell because minutes ago he had swiped the credit card of the person who _owned_ that very building.

Koushiro Izumi was the CEO to the largest electricity company in Japan.

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 **(a/n)** I hope you enjoyed this one :) Thanks for reading!

Possibly the shortest chapter, but I like it how it is...so I'm keeping it. Anyway, this is the second last one-shot. The next (and final) one-shot will be Takeru's story. I really want to complete this story by the end of the month, or at least before the new Digimon Tri movie.

Next up: Takeru


	10. Takeru: One Father To Another

**(a/n)** Every chapter will be a one-shot dedicated to each digidestined.

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 **[TAXI DRIVER]**

FINAL CHAPTER

takeru

 **o** ne **f** ather **t** o **a** nother

 _._

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The taxi driver knew there was something wrong with the man when he glided onto the front seat.

It wasn't often, or very rarely, that _any_ of his passengers would sit shotgun. Most passengers opted to take the back seat, preferring their own privacy. However, it wasn't the case with this man. He didn't seem the least bit insecure. How could he when it was difficult to miss the bright lime necktie that he wore, contrasting with his grey suit. Not to mention, the fact, that he was deluged in strong, yet pleasant, scenting cologne.

He screamed confidence, but the passenger's fashion sense was questionable.

That taxi driver mused to himself what the man was trying to prove, dressing like a clown. Who was he trying to impress? It was enough that the passenger had blond hair, but to dress in rather a vibrant manner was quite not right.

Before the taxi driver could study his latest customer more intently, the man's lips curved upwards as he addressed him, "Hello. Nice to meet you. I'm Takeru. Takaishi Takeru. How are you? Isn't the weather splendid today? Do you like this weather?"

Like how rare it was for somebody to sit shotgun, it was just as rare for somebody to formally introduce themselves as soon as they'd enter the vehicle and ask how his day had been. The taxi driver had grown accustomed to his passengers ordering him a location, and treating him like wallpaper. On rare occasions did the driver chauffeur around the conversational type.

"It's quite nice." The taxi driver agreed, gazing up at the cloudless sky.

Summer was trickling in and it was only last week that the taxi driver had begun to utilise the AC after it had been on hibernation mode since last September. If anything, the sunshine and quirkiness matched well with the driver's current passenger. He definitely was an oddball, doused in extreme positivity.

Just as the taxi driver was about to ask the passenger where he desired to go, the man wound down the window and called out – in broken English – to a couple standing on the corner of the road. "Come here!"

The couple were definitely of foreign origin. They clutched onto a map, and were stretching it out, battling the strong wind in the process. Upon hearing Takeru yell out at them, the foreigners made their way to the taxi, gazing at the taxi driver's passenger in a hopeful manner.

"S... _Sky Tree_?" The woman stuttered with a heavy accent. The taxi driver could sense they were European, possibly Italian?

"The Sky Tree Tower?" Takeru reaffirmed, giving a nod. His passenger gestured for the couple to bring the map closer. From the open window, Takeru slowly traced a line through the map. "Take..er, left. Then right? And left. And another left after. Ten minutes from here. Yes."

The older man couldn't believe how confident his passenger was speaking in his not-so-fluent English. It was plausible and definitely something the taxi driver could ever dream of doing. Takeru appeared to be the type that liked taking action, and disliked sitting around doing nothing. He was a busy-body. Takeru had seen a couple in need of a hand, and he did not turn his head away and pretend that they didn't exist; as many people often did. He had actually helped them and genuinely _wanted_ to.

Despite being an oddball, the taxi driver's customer truly was good-natured. A lot could be observed of a person's nature in a few minutes. It was something, a habit, that the taxi driver had inherited after driving a multitude of passengers during his entire working career.

It took Takeru another few minutes, going over the directions once again, until it made sense to the couple. Once understanding Takeru's instructions, the couple bowed at the passenger, expressing their immense gratitude before leaving the vehicle's side.

"Sorry about that. Um...Odaiba High please?" Takeru scratched the back of his head, chuckling. "Sorry again. I always seem to get side-tracked and distracted easily, but it looked like they needed help and-"

"It was kind thing for you to do, young man," The taxi driver cut him off. There was no point in his passenger apologising when he had done nothing wrong.

However, the taxi driver felt like he regretted being cordial with the man because as soon as he had brushed off the apology, the passenger went into full force, talking away like his life depended on it.

As well as being an oddball, the man was a...chatterbox? _Good grief._

"...you see, it's going to be _really_ exciting!" Takeru beamed widely. "I haven't been to my high school since I graduated, and now it is our ten year reunion! I even met my wife there. It's a shame that she can't attend because she's pregnant with baby number three now. It looks like you have three kids too."

The taxi driver blinked, rather surprised how his passenger knew that he also had children. When he gave a sideway glance at the passenger, he noted that he had helped himself to taking the photograph that was hanging from the rearview mirror. It was an old photo, the colour was slowly starting to decay...but ever since the taxi driver and his family had taken the photo, he had hung it up and hadn't taken it off ever since. His family was a reminder of what he did, and why he worked. And he loved them dearly.

"What are their names?"

The taxi-driver gave a lopsided smile as he thought about his children. "Souta, Chiyako and Takumi."

"I love names and finding their origins. Isn't it interesting and fascinating how people interpret others based on what they're called. Sometimes the stories behind them are great to know too. Parents name their children after memories, stories, other family members, or simply by how warm and charming they sound. Names are very important, don't you think?"

"Very." The taxi driver frowned, thinking of his own name. He had coped many people, in his life, repeating his name as it was peculiar-sounding and not a common name. "My name was one that would always get teased."

"They were probably jealous." Takeru scoffed. "Because I think it's a unique name. People are sometimes scared of change, or getting out of the norm. But we can't have that all the time, right? It would be boring."

The taxi driver chuckled. By now, he wasn't even the slightest bit peeved when he saw his passenger was now looking at his ID card that was positioned right under the photograph of his family.

"I'm in the process of finding a name for my latest kid," Takeru sighed. "It's difficult when you're really choosey like me. But having the job of picking a name for your child is really hard. My wife named Karina, so it's my turn to find a name for our next child. What are your children like?"

The taxi driver smiled broadly.

He always enjoyed taking the opportunity to brag about his children. What parent didn't?

The taxi driver started to ramble, "Souta is, like me, obsessed with baseball. I think if he keeps practicing, he could even make it a career. Or perhaps track? He's a fast runner. When he was a toddler, he'd run circles around me so many times that I'd get dizzy. He's quite the athlete."

While talking, the taxi drove the car onto the highway, heading towards Odaiba.

"Chiyako is the loudest, and the only girl. She's always listening to bands and her main focus is to be a musician. She sings very well and plays three instruments. And Takumi? He's the youngest, but he draws really well. I wouldn't be all that shocked if he becomes an architect. He's always liked staring at buildings and asking me how they are made, and what they are made of. Sometimes, he makes me drive him around so that he can stare at all the buildings we drive past…"

"So, basically, you're a very family orientated man. Love baseball...probably the _Hanshin Tigers_ , right? I'm taking a stab on that team because you have a Kansai dialect, which also means you love your takoyaki, and you probably have a takoyaki maker at home-"

The taxi driver gaped. "What are you? Psychic?"

Takeru chuckled. "No. But, I've been told, that I'm good at reading people."

"Then you _are_ a psychic," the taxi driver concluded.

His passenger chuckled harder.

The taxi driver added, "And your English is good too, seeing how well you spoke to the foreigners back there."

"It's not the best," Takeru said, humbly. "Though, I did study English a lot when I was in college. It's not as good as it used to be. I found that the best texts and literature are in English. Sometimes it's nice to take a break from Japanese literature and read something different-"

"I thought speaking English was hard, but you _read_ novels in English too?" The taxi driver questioned, which his passenger replied with a nod. "You truly are a capable, young man."

His passenger smiled. "Thank you. We should continue this exchange of words. You compliment me about something; and I'll compliment you. It'll be a fun game."

The taxi driver guffawed. It had been a while since he had laughed this hard. And oddball, psychic _and_ a chatterbox. This passenger was one of the most amusing customers he had driven for months.

"I'm guessing you like reading then?"

"Yes." Takeru explained, "I majored in literature. After I graduated university, I worked at a local newspaper and eventually made a name for myself. Currently, I'm writing a series of mystery novels...it's funny because I always saw myself as a screenwriter or a journalist. I actually _hated_ reading mystery novels, but I found myself here. And, you know what? I'm enjoying it."

"You've accomplished a lot. Good for you," The taxi driver sincerely replied.

It was no joke. Takeru _really_ liked to talk a lot.

"Over here," Takeru directed when they were close to the school.

The taxi driver raised an eyebrow. "But there are still many metres to go..."

"We're actually having a picnic across from the school at the park," Takeru told him. "It's a ten year reunion, but it's only between my close friends and I. My brother's even going to been there, despite being years older than me...and I'm excited to taste Mimi's pastries, and Daisuke's ramen. Oh, and I hear Taichi's brought enough kegs of beer, heavy enough to make a tsunami on Tokyo Bay-"

Although the taxi driver no longer knew what the younger man was talking about, he found himself nodding along. He parked the vehicle where his passenger specified. Takeru extended his arm and touched his credit card against the EFTPOS machine, immediately paying the fair.

To his surprise, though the taxi driver shouldn't be surprised anymore by his customer, the man clapped a hand on his shoulder. It was another uncommon thing that none of his customers never dared to do.

"Thank you," Takeru said, tone appreciative.

"You're welcome."

"Speaking from one father to another, keep doing a great job. Your children are lucky to have somebody like you."

"And you too," The taxi driver responded.

Takeru grinned. "I hope we meet again, _Gennai-san_. Thanks for the talk."

His passenger didn't address him as 'taxi driver', or old man, or sir...just ' _Gennai_ '.

It was the taxi driver's _actual_ name.

Takeru had gone out of the way to read the older man's identification badge without his permission, having sought his name and making an effort to distinguish him out of the large amount of other taxi drivers that roamed Tokyo City. In a way, the taxi driver was rather touched by his passenger.

Gennai returned, with an equally large grin, "You're welcome, Takeru-kun."

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 **(a/n)** It's done! Thanks for reading this fanfic, guys :) It was a whole lot of fun to write  & was different to what I usually write. I was enjoyable writing and studying each DigiDestined character in the process. I hope you enjoyed reading _Taxi Driver_ too! :)

As all the one-shots are not set in a chronological order, I decided against linking all the stories together. I just don't think it would have worked out smoothly. However, it was a nice musing/suggestion _Staria's Light_ & _j8919_ ;)

I started this fanfic before Gennai turned all _creepy_ in Digimon Tri. Haha. I tried my best to stop myself from writing Gennai's name in the previous chapters. This is the big reveal that I've been disguising from the beginning of the story xD

Again, THANK YOU FOR READING. xoxo

 **P.S.** I'll reply to reviews tomorrow...or later today. It's already past 2am and I need to start work in 5 hours xD


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